Sunday, July 23, 2017

Suitmation VI: Mythos-shifting

Suitmation VI: Mythos-shifting
by William D. Tucker

I was thinking the other day about that era when I was a water-born goblin,
dragging fishermen and their misbehaving children down to crunchy doom.
I did that job forever.
Then the fates were on a hardcore naturalism kick,
so they put me out there as a normal turtle, nothing special, just a regular animal,
with a goblin soul,
trapped with grandiose gremlin thoughts inside a mundane body,
but it got good to me over a couple hundred years,
really worked some shit out.

I went through a period where they had me as a demon disguised as a whirlpool or eddy
in the flow of a river
because people didn't know anything about how rivers and flowing work,
so those whirlpools seemed all mysterious as fuck.
People gotta lotta omen-value out of whirlpools at that time.
I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true.
Was true.

More recently,
I tried to come back as a space guy. Get in on that alien abduction action,
but they told me I'd just be stuck inside somebody's brain,
someone with weak ego structures and tendencies to confabulation.
Too claustrophobic, too technical for my ass.

Lately,
I've just been pulling half-cycles
as a corner-of-the-eye motherfucker,
alternating with the sleep paralysis shadows crew,
which is a lot of downtime due to the relatively uncommon incidence of genuine episodes,
but I've put in for liars' duty.
I wouldn't mind punching up some pathological make believe,
whisper some depraved side coaching into a broken soul,
do crew on some gnarly hallucinations,
which is all below the line work for sure,
but it earns respect which catches more cycles.
Half-cycles, for now, but ...

I get angry when I think it's just gonna be
like
nothing but below the line work the rest of my eternity.
The tough shit about it, though, is that spooks and goblins can't compare with ideological and monotheistic extremisms and consumerisms especially when they get in those government guts.
My kind is just too folksy.
The ideological specters call us "pocket cozy monstrosities."
"Why don't you go get into a collection, little gremlins?"
Nobody starts a war or perpetrates genocide or steals an election over yokai or fairy folk.
We're seen as too cute for serious work.
I hear the gremlins are coming back, though.
They're gettin' a boost from the conspiracy theory fuckwits who can't accept that it's people that assassinate politicians and set off bombs and fly planes into tall buildings and shit,
but no, no-it's gotta be gremlins, now.
The conspiracy humps can't blame the government anymore since their boy lied his way into the executive slot.
A sad era ...
...
...
okay,
I admit it: I been working on my gremlin certifications.
Boredom'll drive you to some soul-staining shit!
But that's how I . . . survive isn't the right word for it.
Persist.
But that's how I persist along this samsara wheel reality regime.
All the pure souls got it easy, cycling out into the void on schedule.
That's not where the action is for a goblin with a lust for mischief.
I'll debase myself to no end to get a piece of the action, to stay relevant.

But I'll tell you one thing I'll never do.
I refuse to ever rubber up.
To put on that goddamn suit, and have some stunt team kick shit out of my cute ass,
because once you're on that road,
they'll work you in that rut 'til you're doing the fight choreography in your sleep.
I'm telling you: no self-respecting gremlin, goblin, fairy, or yokai ever consents to going full corporeal.
Gotta hold on to your ethereal essence.
Take pride in your numinous nature.
Go gremlin, if you must,
but never rubber up,
never go full corporeal!
-July 2017

Copyright 2017 by William D. Tucker. All rights reserved. Used with permission. 
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