Ten forty at night.
I just figured out one of my dreams, and it dealt with the father figure of darkness, specifically the relationship of Luke with Darth Vader. Star Wars is such a pop culture phenomenon that it’s virtually public domain and a part of the collective consciousness. It can be the source of feelings of paranoia. Luke knows what he can or can’t do that will piss his father off to bring persecution on his head. Is it a form of castration anxiety? Vader, as his father, is authoritarian, and good when he is pleased or terrible when angry. Luke is free to do anything but cut himself loose from his evil destiny. When he rebels, he’d better be prepared to face the worst of his father’s wrath concentrated on him, sort of like Job when he challenges God and the latter terrifies him with extreme displays of weather… So I half awoke, knowing that a misstep in this or that direction could ignite the father’s fury. Then I got up to write this post. And I remind myself of my father’s date of demise this Friday.
Five thirty. Pastor called me. We’re recording the service tomorrow at six thirty. He said if I could do that then don’t worry about Saturday. Said he really appreciates my help. Of course.
Six twenty. I don’t feel so great right now, but I’ll pull through. I’m a bit stressed. I haven’t tried to sing in a long time. It would have been nice if Lisa could help us out. But I told myself that I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll have to think about something else.
Ten twenty five. So I went to sleep and dreamed about the service tomorrow evening. At one point I was driving a car north up River Road, past my turnoff, and trying to find a place to get turned around. The traffic was so bad that I couldn’t do it. And in reality, it happened that way whenever I went to get my hair cut with Virginia. To make a left turn and go home, I had to cross three lanes of breakneck traffic, which was usually impossible. Therefore I made a right turn and went with the traffic up a few intersections and turned around in the parking lot of the Mormon church. I wasn’t a bad driver, just safe and defensive. I haven’t been north of the Beltline since I stopped driving a car. Besides, it’s mostly a redneck place in Santa Clara. The reading material up there consists of Louis L’Amour and Danielle Steele. Never heard of poetry, but Norman Rockwell is the rage in art. For the ultimate in entertainment they go to the rodeo on Highway 99…
What was the last movie I saw? St Vincent, last fall. It was okay. Otherwise I’ve been isolated from pop culture, what everyone else is doing. I’ve been like the vampire in Anne Rice, hibernating underground and listening to life above for a few centuries. Will I ever watch tv again? See a movie in the theater? How contrary do I want to be? My assumption is that I am wiser than pop culture. Current political trends can dig up stuff from old philosophers and I won’t be snowed. It sounds terribly vain of me, considering myself a know it all. But it may be okay to be an antiquarian, for my memory is very good. My attitude is like Ecclesiastes: there is no new thing under the sun. Show me any new thing and I’ll show you a precedent. Still, part of me feels that I’m being pretentious, especially when I earned my degree twenty five years ago. The last new book I read was The Sun and Her Flowers. I disliked it because the woman was too self sufficient… which on second thought reminds me of my own self sufficiency. Maybe there really is something wrong with that attitude? A woman recently asked me if I could bear children. I said not by myself. She admitted that she couldn’t either. But the current thinking tends toward introversion, for lack of a better term. I see the potential for that to be taken to an extreme. The feeling I got from Kaur’s book was a freezing cold shoulder. Is it only women who are going this way? But that book was two years ago already. Time flies.