hallucinations: June 2007 Archives

when i grow up i wanna be a pagan shaman. i will also be a professional afro-american teenager, a french connoisseur and of course a barista with artsy ambitions.

but till then i'm going to remain a slave of corporate america. life will be good though, because i have my evenings to myself and myself only. i'll read and listen and play tennis. what the hell, i'll dip into the jacuzzi every once in a while before getting completely drunk. life is good.

in the perfect world there are no books on religion, faith, god or lack thereof. there are also no schools of thought, no ethical codes, no virtues and no values. there are only stories. story books for math, for physics, for medicines, for music, for cooking and for sex. there will be absolutely no differentiation between fact and fiction. imagination is just another sense, merely the strongest. people truly live what they read, hear and watch, and integrate the experience into their wisdom. there are no lies, just different individual preferences in pursuing facts or fiction. good and bad are devolved into their true meanings: descriptive adjectives for personal tastes, never applicable to people, actions or events for that matter.

in the prefect world we're all in love and we create to impress the divine beloved, tangible or not. in the prefect world we're all high and drunk even when asleep. the perfect world is actually a broadyway musical with original score in the air and subtitles floating around people and animals and all other conscious creatures in various paradigms of life.

in the perfect world survival pays. we're all compensated fairly for the courageous act of waking up to the same routines everyday, for enduring misery, for being born, for anything that goes wrong. in fact infants receive a sign-up bonus which pays for their minimal needs for their duration of stay within the current life form. the youth are always struggling and the elderly have the highest rates for having gone through it all.

in the prefect world brains are useless, plans are decorative and deadlines are just for fun. feelings are everything, we feel like somethings, and don't feel like the rest, and we can always choose, and we only choose what feels the best, and we can always switch, and we often do as soon as we're bored.

in the prefect world it's all about me, and it's all about now.

everything is a hoax, everyone's miserable and it's all going down. i feel good right now, and it's a perfect life.

lyra to harry is as holmes to poirot.

that rowling would pick a male protagonist is well aligned with pullman's concept of daemons' opposite gender of their owners. everything in lyra's world is profoundly masculine, even the tribute to feminist witches' dominance over their male lovers' ignorance and ephemeral nature. events are often narrated short and harsh with drama kept at its minimum. harry on the other hand thrives on feelings, on minute details of wizardry inconspicuous to male's senses.

while both happen to be raised apart from their legitimate parents one can't possibly ignore the stark contrast between their feelings for their natural roots. james potter could easily pass for a metrosexual visionary of some health food corporation the shrewd and powerful lord asriel could merely be conceived of as a veteran dark stakesholder in a mutli-national board regulating oil, weapons and drugs traffic across the continents. the contrast between the mother figures is beyond the scope of this text, or any other one for that matter.

one corny idea is to have harry meet lyra, or lizzie for the rhymes sake. we'll assign them a few tasks too, and leave it to them to figure who does what and how. we'll throw in a few dementors, some specters and other minuscule obstacles like vicious death eaters and gobblers. the winner is one who kills everybody and returns with the holy grail first. use of alethiometers is not allowed, nor is burning a fawkes feather. iorek and hagrid could watch, but not intervene. again it will be pretty cheesy, but fun to watch. and i bet you anything, lyra will hate harry's guts for being so mellow, and harry could never ever come to terms with accepting her bluntness.

someone should write a persian one, a modern persian fiction for young adults, someone from my generation.