We are all connected.

Ne fut longtemps que celle des arbres, du soleil frappant le front, cet horizon de son couteau gravant un signe, clarté d’une voix sur la piste ou l’odeur des fleurs de café, tout un envoûtement par les choses, dont on ne peut sortir. Mais dit ainsi ou d’autres manières, n’est que trame se rompant, l’accroc que fait le temps et le fil à écrire.

Le mot ligne apparait 13 fois dans Ma vie au village.

#VoyageauLexique

Dans ce deuxième Voyage au Lexique, je continue d’explorer, en me gardant de les exploiter, les mots de Ma vie au village (in Journal de la brousse endormie) dont le nombre d’occurrences est significatif.

I woke up thinking it would be quieter today. It wasn’t.

It’s strange how silence can still sound like you, between your thoughts. Every corner of the room feels like it’s waiting for something to come back, as I misplaced you somewhere between my words and your patience.

I keep telling myself I understand. That you saw it how you saw it. That maybe I made it look worse than it was.

But understanding doesn’t make it feel fair.

I wasn’t lying when I said I was overwhelmed.I wasn’t playing you. I was just… breaking in a way that looks ugly from the outside.

If I had said it differently, paused longer, explained myself like a normal person, would you still be here?

Or was it already over, and I didn’t hear the door close?

I don’t want to chase you. Not because I don’t want you, but because I know how it looks when I do.

Desperate. Loud. Wrong.

It’s upsetting how I keep reaching for something that isn’t here anymore. not just you, but everything I had.

It’s embarrassing, really. How can someone move on easily and still exist in the way I breathe, in the way I pause before saying something, as if you’re still there to hear it.

I keep wondering If you ever look back at it the way I do, or if I’ve already been simplified in your mind into something easier to forget.

“A mistake.” “A phase.” “Too much.”

That sounds about right,

Too much when I was overwhelmed, too much when I panicked, too much when I tried to explain myself in a way that didn’t make sense to anyone but me.

I thought I’d at least leave a mark.

Something noticeable. But perhaps I was just easy to erase. Not because it’s been * days, but because it felt sharp.

And I’ll pretend this is me moving on when really, It’s just me learning how to miss you more quietly.

Sincerely, What you called a curse.

In Summary: * After a full day following NCAA March Madness basketball, I'm more impressed than ever at the high quality of Westwood One Sports Radio. Excellent reportage and play by play game calling! What a great crew! But... it's time now for me to leave the college game and tune the radio to 1200 WOAI, the proud flagship of the San Antonio Spurs to catch the pregame coverage as well as the radio play by play of tonight's NBA game with the Indiana Pacers.

Prayers, etc.: * I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night. Details of that regimen are linked to my link tree, which is linked to my profile page here.

Starting Ash Wednesday, 2026, I've added this daily prayer as part of the Prayer Crusade Preceding the 2026 SSPX Episcopal Consecrations.

Health Metrics: * bw= 225.53 lbs. * bp= 134/78 (68)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups

Diet: * 08:10 – 1 potato & egg breakfast taco, crispy oatmeal cookies * 10:45 – cream cheese & saltine crackers, cooked meat & vegetables, steamed rice * 12:00 – 1 chocolate cupcake * 14:15 – 1 fresh apple * 15:10 – 1 more chocolate cupcake * 16:20 – cooked meat & vegetables, white bread

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 07:15 – bank accounts activity monitored * 07:40 – read, write, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap, * 10:00 – listening to Westwood One Sports radio coverage of today's NCAA March Madness Games * 18:00 – turning away from March Madness to catch a full hour of Spurs Pregame Show ahead of tonight's Spurs vs Pacers NBA Game

Chess: * 14:45 – moved in all pending CC games

Des annonces récentes indiquent que la municipalité souhaite aménager un accès public au fleuve sur le Domaine Médard-Bourgault. Selon les informations diffusées publiquement, ce projet pourrait inclure différents aménagements permanents destinés à faciliter l’accès de la population, comme un escalier, des bancs, des poubelles et un aménagement du terrain.

À première vue, l’idée d’offrir un accès au fleuve peut sembler positive. Mais dans le cas précis du Domaine Médard-Bourgault, cette proposition soulève une question beaucoup plus profonde : celle de l’intégrité d’un lieu artistique.

Un lieu qui n’est pas un parc

Le jardin situé au bord du fleuve fait partie d’un ensemble qui possède une valeur particulière. À quelques pas de là se trouve une petite boutique où Médard Bourgault se retirait pour sculpter, notamment lorsqu’il souhaitait travailler dans le calme, loin de l’agitation des visiteurs.

L’accès à cet endroit se fait aujourd’hui par un escalier de pierre discret. Cette descente fait partie de l’expérience du lieu : on quitte progressivement le domaine pour entrer dans un espace plus intime, plus silencieux, presque retiré du monde.

Transformer cet accès en aménagement public change inévitablement la nature de cet endroit. Ce qui était un lieu discret lié à la création artistique risque de devenir un simple passage vers le fleuve.

Autrement dit, le lieu pourrait rester physiquement présent, mais perdre une partie de son sens.

Le sens du domaine repose sur l’ensemble formé par les œuvres, la maison, l’atelier et les bâtiments qui composent ce lieu.

Le Domaine Médard-Bourgault appartient à l’histoire de la sculpture québécoise. Si cet ensemble est profondément transformé, la manière dont l’œuvre est comprise change aussi. Transformer ce lieu revient, en partie, à transformer le sens même de l’œuvre.

La question de l’usage du lieu

Cela pose la question de l’usage du lieu et de la manière dont il évolue dans le temps.

Passer d’un jardin lié à un lieu de création artistique à un espace aménagé pour la circulation du public n’est pas une transformation anodine. C’est un changement qui peut modifier l’expérience du lieu et la façon dont il est perçu.

Prendre le temps de réfléchir

Le Domaine Médard-Bourgault n’est pas un terrain comme les autres. Il s’agit d’un lieu directement lié à l’histoire d’un sculpteur majeur et à une tradition artistique qui dépasse largement les frontières locales.

Avant de transformer cet espace en accès public aménagé, il semble raisonnable de se poser une question simple : sommes-nous en train de mettre en valeur ce lieu… ou de transformer profondément ce qu’il représente ?

Préserver un lieu artistique ne signifie pas nécessairement le fermer au public. Mais cela implique parfois de reconnaître que certains endroits tirent leur valeur précisément de leur simplicité, de leur discrétion et de leur authenticité.

C’est peut-être le cas ici.

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Just going to be one of those days. I’m exhausted even after caffeine and just don’t feel well, so I’m going to just chase pain in low weight high reps.

I don’t think I have enough of a backbone or whatever you want to call it to decide whether or not some of the stuff that happened should be ok or not. I can understand maybe a little bit on where you were coming from with the thing that happened that first week. I still think it was not ok, and was handled horribly. I’ve somewhat come to terms with the idea that you could hate me, that’s ok because I’ve thought and at least right now I feel like my actions lined up with my values, and I’m happy with the person I am. I am the love I give, not the love I receive.

I think it’s a trap to think that there are a small percentage of the population that you could truly connect with. I think every person has enough depth and wideness to their character to make them more than enough for meaningful connection. But I do have that fear about just the lack of agency in the whole situation. Like I don’t know what I can do to meet someone who would be good for me. I know the things I can do to increase the odds, but nothing deterministic. And that fear sits on that last portion.

But also what would I do differently if I knew that in 6 years the problem would be for sure solved? Like by the time I’m 30 I’d be in a great relationship. I know I can’t guarantee that, but let’s just speculate. If I knew it would work out, would I be able to let go a bit more? Of this fear, specifically. And I think the answer is yes. But also what if I never find that person, or things just don’t work out. The first thing that comes to my mind is I wouldn’t get to be a father, and that is horribly sad. But the good news is I absolutely could adopt, and such. I also do feel like by that point I’ve scaled like crazy and I will absolutely be able to get married. So I guess if I do believe that, I do know that I won’t die alone.

So then the next part is how do I get comfortable with the prospect of being single for an indefinite amount of time? I think there’s no denying the fact it’s nicer to be able to have someone to be intimate with, share experiences with, and to be able to come home to. There’s no avoiding that, so whatever conclusion has to come in lieu of that. I guess an even worse outcome however is being with someone you shouldn’t spend your life with. That’s a very agonizing hell, to be in a situation of your choosing that hurts more the longer you don’t rip the bandaid off. I have so much sympathy for people who have to break up for “good” reasons, like right person wrong time, or after a long time, at least longer than these 5 months with E for me. That’s would be brutal. And a divorce? Holy shit. Especially if it’s because of work that needs to be done that’s damaging to the partner. I’m so thankful that I did not do something egregious in this relationship, because the guilt would murder me. But I digress.

I watched a vid on this a while ago, and they said that even if being single is miserable and lonely at times, it’s better than being in the wrong relationship, because that robs you of time and more importantly hope. What if I stuck to E, and we continued to try to work on the relationship, and then 30 comes around and I find that person I would have been with otherwise. I did feel like I was settling a lot with E, which is honestly cruel of me. I wouldn’t want anyone to ever feel like they’re the “settle for” option, and so that is shitty of me for trying to make the relationship work so much. But either way, I want a future relationship to feel like one where I’m not worried about how I’m going to present them to my friends, for them to find her impressive. I don’t want to feel like I have to hope they can lock in or not act in certain ways they normally do as to not embarrass me. I want to show them off and be overwhelmingly proud of. I did show E off a lot and I don’t want it to seem like she wasn’t an incredible person in her own way. But at the same time around my friends from work, she would get super self conscious and worried because everyone is super smart and successful and she is graduating late with an art degree. I would have loved to show her off if she had created art, but she just scraped by the degree and had nothing of substance to show easily. I want my future partner to be someone who beats me in different ways (see what I did there lol). I want someone who can grow my experience of the world in a more direct sense, not as the subject but as the teacher at times.

I guess it’s hard to think of someone this rare and wonderful and think of them as someone available, y’know? But maybe if they’re waiting for a relationship rather than just jumping at opportunities it would make sense. If someone is more deliberate with love as an option rather than a need, then waiting for the right person is natural. I do think serially relationship hopping is a bad thing, and this is the healthiest version of it. So I guess I should strive to be the same.

I do appreciate journaling like this rather than talking to an AI, since there are enough tools and building blocks in my mind that I can gain insights without external stimulation, just needs the work and analysis. And I do feel better.

Voorbijgaande Ridders in en op Orde op Aard [VVA Lintjes dag]

Ik had tijdens de vorige periode wat denk energie over en besloten deze te besteden aan mijn voltallige personeel en de miljoenen leden van de Van Voorbijgaande Aard omroep. Ik zocht een rede voor een rede om personeelsleden en leden onderling te scheiden, om een ander zomaar eer te gunnen en alle anderen daar voor te laten klappen. De oorzaak voor de eerbiedwaardige scheiding tussen a en b zijn, geparkeerd staan in mijn tijdelijke waarheid zone, rondom verzonnen waardigheid, uiteindelijk besloot ik een al bestaand proces te copy pasten, en dan toe te passen op u, mijn dappere leden.

Het is dus vers hergebruik van een oude lang toegepaste traditie om leden te voorzien van een glijmiddeltje voor volgens mij voorbeeldig omroep gedrag. Ik ga aan de dappere willozen mooie glimmende lintjes uitdelen, omdat zij mij en de omroep door zo te zijn ontzettend hebben behaagd, het perkje leuk opgetuigd. Altijd leuk om te zien wat zoiets met een lid doet. We leven nou eenmaal ieder etmaal, elk rondje om de bol, in een groot aanhoudend experiment voor eindeloze aandacht, een periode waarbij u van geboorte tot aan de dood het lijdend voorwerp bent, de persoon op wie elk etmaal met allerlei middelen op vele manieren dingetjes worden uitgeprobeerd om te kijken, horen, voelen wat er na zo'n ingreep met u gebeurt, wat de gevolgen zijn van de uitgevoerde oorzaak, de spuit of de pillen voorgeschreven, de operatie ondergaan, het veel omvattende strategische plan. U bent immers iemand die beheerd moet worden, voorzien van plichten en rede om te horen en zien, het volgen of ageren op iemand anders invloed methodiek, een mens waarop eerder al drug op is geoefend en al doende een (on)behaaglijk type is geworden, een horige, ongehoorzame, volger, vandaal, een beheersde of onbeheersbare.. Als Van Voorbijgaande Aard omroep baas zie ik graag, personages die iedere rondje doen wat de omroep nodig heeft voor het welvarend invloeibaar voortbestaan en liever niet iets anders doen waardoor de vaart er uit gaat. Ik heb liever niet dat u zinvol bezig bent met u eigen regels want dan moet ik daar weer iets mee aanvangen.

Lintjes zijn uitstekend materiaal voor ongeremd onderdanig gedrag, bonussen werken ook goed maar mijn omroep is extreem krenterig, en zoiets is alleen goed voor toch al ruim beloond personeel, zoveel personeel heb ik eigenlijk niet meer over sinds de laatste reorganistie, alle VVA levensbronnen komen inmiddels van out. Ik beloon mijn hoopje echt hoognodige medewerkers zo nu en dan al met een plakje ere metaal tijdens de befaamde en gevreesde omroep spot en spelmiddagen en eerlijk is eerlijk na zo veel leuks op een anders sombere dag eind November heb je geen gouden handdruk meer nodig.

Dus vanaf vandaag worden de lintjes uitgedeeld aan de door mij uitverkoren leden, volgend jaar laat ik alle leden andere leden voordragen zodat er gemeenschapszin zal ontstaan als ook wedijver, hardnekkige nijverheid om de omroep te plezieren. Ik ga dan ook het land in om zelf vijf of zes lintjes te spelden op de jasjes van goed gekeurde leden, de organisaties verantwoordelijk voor de voordracht van deze o zo goedwillende personen zullen op deze dag alles doen om het mij ontzettend naar de zin te maken zodat ik wordt voorzien van een geweldig leuke omgeving om in te zijn en daar dan mijn unieke VVA lintjes te verspreiden onder de beste volgers ooit. Er hoort ook een titel bij Voorbijgaande Ridder in en op Orde op Aard. Super concept, goed strategisch ondernemen lijkt mij dit. Pure verlakkerij, typisch machtsvertoon. Zo gezellig.

Dit eerste jaar zijn er maar liefst 24 uitverkorenen voor deze Voorbijgaande glim lintjes.

4 Personeelsleden, scribenten met uitzonderlijk behaaglijk omroep gedrag. Zeer harde werkers, vlijtig, net, goed samenwerkend met mij en andere best belangrijke omroep managers, zoals (Voorheen) en Deelnemer 11. Personeel dat zich alle vier seizoenen vrijwillig voor ons multi medie roep, zwaai en joel instituut inzet heeft onze voorkeur maar ook standvastig onder betaald niet zeurend personeel, zij die al vele jaren bij ons de beste periode van alle etmalen gevuld met levensenergie hebben gegeven aan ons in plaats van aan iets of iemand anders, voor ons doel van bestaan, hun eigen lange werkzame leven hebben weggecijferd, speciaal voor onze kijk, lees en luister nummer, de writeas few teller. Onze onuitputtelijke bron van inkomsten dus, en zij daarvoor dus een pluim verdienen, nu, een jaar of half jaar voor het pensioen. De dag waarop ze beginnen te ontdekken dat ze hun leven hebben vergooid aan iemand anders wil, hun vrijheid ingeruild voor een mager maar effectief loon, hun dagen omgezet in werkdagen, slaaf van geld gever Aard, nou als dat geen lintje waard is dan weet ik het ook niet meer.

Deze vlijtige, nette, altijd tijdig inklokkende personeelsleden krijgen hun lintje tijdens de vaste maand vergadering. Dan roept de dienstdoende vergader manager hen tijdens de meeting op, van hun draaistoel achter aan de lange rechthoekige tafel, en speld hun dit mooi opgedirkte glimmende stukje stof op de mouw. Onder luid applaus van hun minderen en gelijken natuurlijk en bijna onzichtbaar geniepig lachje van een paar verplicht aanwezige Voorbijgaande Aard hoofd task managers. Een dooie mus is namelijk een waardig geschenk als je iets maakt van de schenking, een show moment. Toneelspeld.

De andere uitverkorenen krijgen het leuke nieuws te horen op de dag voor Aard dag, de giga leuke landelijk ingevoerde feest dag ter ere van de Voorbijgaande omroep, de dag van de zimaar omzet rondom hypothetisch eigen ruimte, op eigen gemeenschap straat, dag vol vlag vertoon, zwart en wit, de kleur van omroepland Smægmå, mooie blije zon omwenteling voor de legale handel in verdovende middelen rondom oor verdovende herrie in een kerk tent, bij het omroep jubel koor festival, het Vrete op Aard festijn wordt nog feestelijker met deze glimmende behaag lintjes voor Voorbijgaande Ridders in en op Orde, zeker weten van wel

20 geprikte leden op 17 miljoen Smægmånen is wat pover maar dit is slechts het begin. Het moet ook uniek overkomen alsof je echt iets meer bent dan een brave gehorige domoor. Dankzij een magistraal met behulp van Netify ontwikkeld algo ritmisch gymnastiek nummertje zijn er twintig niet helemaal willekeurige maar wel zo goed als namen van leden op mijn scherm verschenen, 20 echte ridders, unieke mensen, parels van de omroep, de top van Smægmåånse staat en zijn ware koning, ik Aard.

Kant en klare verhalen p.p. bij geleverd over het hoe en waarom zij zo geweldig zijn, meer waard dan andere normale inwoners, die lui bij lange na niet slecht maar ook niet uitzonderlijk goed, zij nog lange niet ridderwaardig aldus het algo ritmisch rek en verstrek werk. 20 stuks super uniek volk omdat ze zo veel zo vaak deden voor het goedAardse volk, voor de huidige staat der omzet, zij die buitengewone inzet toonden, altijd dingen regelden die geregeld konden worden, of dingen organiseerden om te regelen, ze stonden paraat, zetten de tent op, een luifel er voor, brachten mensen en hun recht op staats lot dicht bij elkaar, lieten zien hoe geweldig het leven hier is onder mijn bezielende organisatie, gedoe, te leven voor mijn doelen, dit zijn mensen die extreem goed in het door mij bepaalde perk konden behandelen derhalve verdienen zij een de ridder orde.

Indien het niet een mens was maar een samen ouwehoerende en knop indrukkende mensen club is verdienen ze zelfs een extra titel, Aardelijk, de mens en zijn kliek verheven in de Aardelijk stand of een Aardelijk voor de naam van de mensen samen op pad voor winst doeleinden. Zoals Netify namens ons heeft geregeld voor Vape makers Neomijder, nu dus De Aardelijke Neomijder. Gewoon omdat ze zo goed bezig zijn de onderdanen in mijn staat te voorzien van de hardnodige Vapes, nou in zo'n gefabriceerde, verwerkelijkte situatie krijg je van mij en Netify het volle respect, de naam Aardelijk.

Vape van Neomijder al acht jaar sponsor van Van Voorbijgaande Aard is deze grootse omroep erkentelijk voor de hulp die het kreeg om het Vape product in de consumerende mens en rondom die mens te deponeren. We zijn blij dat de omroep heerser zijn dankbaarheid daarover op dergelijke wijze kenbaar heeft gemaakt. Wij heten vanaf nu vol trots de Aardelijke Neomijder voor alle Vape overal om u.

Alle personen uitgekozen waren vooraf door netify gescreend op welwillendheid betreffende ontvangst en grote dankbaarheid, Het was zeker dat ze dit lintje en de orde vol trots zouden ontvangen en het ervoor, tijdens en daarna zouden gaan rond bazuinen als ware het hun beste dag ooit, beter nog dan hun geboorte dag zelfs die van hun kinderen. Zelf promotend enthousiasme is de beste reclame voor een groot omroep rijk. Daardoor hechten mensen zich makkelijker aan hun geweldig deugdzame zelf min of meer gekozen leiders, het aangeboden man en machtje uit de ijdele hoop Met dergelijke creatieve positief overkomende interventies blijft de twijfelachtige almacht bijna overal onbesproken, zeker overal binnen de ruime perken van deze omroep, organisatie VVA met overal wel een vingertje in de pap, bij iedere landelijke krant, elke zender met licentie, een centrale positie inneemt in het hele staatsapparaat waarmee het berichtgeving kan controleren, aanpassen, iedere uitzending de juiste kleur geeft, zwartwit, elke andere vrijere media club voorziet van sterke of juist zwakke signalen, de geldkraan naar alle organisaties op elk moment open en dicht kan draaien, regels altijd overal naar eigen rede kan aanpassen, elke tegenstand kan reguleren met duizenden behulpzame, aan de omroep schatplichtige personen volop aanwezig in het omroep vriendendienst bestand, via deze mensen en hun nijvere organisaties, kanalen, aanwezige lijn verbindingen, persoonlijke connecties, de mogelijke kracht van elke oppositie kan slopen met het middel juist voor dit doel gemaakt, het geld, de buidel deur open en dicht trekken.

Het uitdelen van lintjes is daar gewoon één van, een methode om leden te beheren door ze, de volgzame, de veel en vaak producerende, te eren met een werk titel, een titel die volgens ons, de rol spelend van spreekbuis der gemeenschap, een ere titel, geeft aan dat persoon x van uitzonderlijk nut is voor iedereen omdat ze zo nuttig zijn voor VVA, zeer bekwame lieden zijn het, voorbeelden voor de anderen, zodat dit soort ambities en bijpassend gedrag de norm gaat bepalen, datgene zal zijn waarnaar men streeft, het juiste type lid van de VVA omroep maatschappij. Het is bewezen effectief, zorgt voor berichten, artikelen, gesprekken op straat, een echte ere titel is absoluut een herinnering van het maken waard, een invloed, experimenteel getest en het resultaat is zichtbaar daar, hier, overal waar titels voorkomen.

Bij de omroep smiezen wij dan ook altijd, zacht en onduidelijk, “Let Them Bake Cake” want als ze dat doen dan doen ze wat wij willen. Organiseren, Iets regelen voor Participeren, ondernemen, vergaderen, stichten, strijd maken om een beker ring of vaas met grote gehorige oren, een volgzaam heden brouwen, iets ergens ontwikkelen, een werkproces stroomlijnen, als het maar iets is dat wordt gebakken met hete lucht, want dat vinden wij geweldig mooi, onze Aardlingen zo nijver, net en sociaal bezig te zien met onder hoge druk behandelde bedrijvigheden.

Our Father Who art in Heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Adedapo Adeniyi is a promising 20 yo abstract SF author from Ilorin, Nigeria.

Disclaimer: you should read The Dilemma of the He and His House, House? then Mosquito Farm before reading the interview.

Which Nigerian city do you live in? Can you describe it for us?

I live in Ilorin, it's in Kwara State. I think Ilorin is great, I've lived here all my life, it's claustrophobic and surreal, simultaneously very big and very small, like it's breathing, there's also an eerie air here that a lot of the artists that live here can attest to. My favorite part about it is that we're in what I like to call Ilorin's renaissance era, where the youth are becoming more sensitized to art and exploring themselves in relations to the emotions and mindspace of the city.

In your Abstractism Manifesto, you mention God multiple times. What is God, from your perspective, and what role does He play in your life?

(note from SFSS: Abstractism is a term coined by Adedapo, defining it as a genre/philosophy that functions as an amalgamation of solipsism, surrealism, psychedelia, psychology and the subjectivity of reality; he proposes the dissolution of form into true abstracts.)

I like to think of God in many ways, of course as the ultimate entity, divine, the creator of all, and also as an expression of our true selves.

I grew up Christian, I'm still Christian. I have a very different relationship with God now where I'm constantly asking who He is in me, and not just who. He is like I'm trying to study Him.

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Gemini's synopsis of The Dilemma: This is a story about a man who is confused about his identity. It discusses his house and its origins. The man tells others the story of the house, but he cannot remember it. He eventually realizes that he is the house.

In your story The Dilemma of the He and His House, House?, that we'll call The Dilemma for brevity purpose, you write at one point: “I will stop trying to encompass it in words. It is the truth”. What do you mean by that?

I like to think that there are certain symbols or aspects of my work that can't be expressed through familiar language, because there are no words to use to describe them, they're otherworldly, true, void of the taints of this reality.

What does “void of the taints of this reality” mean?

A psychedelic trip, an orgasm, a feeling of being possessed by the Holy Spirit. There's a lot of ways you could try explaining how they feel, but the language we know doesn't have all the words to express these feelings, these experiences. They're religious.

In The Dilemma, the hero is being told: “You are closed to the knowing, you should open yourself”. Is this a reference to the word Ephphatha in Mark's Gospel? Can you explain what this means to you?

(Note from SFSS: Ephphatha, which means open yourself, was said by Jesus to a deaf-mute man in the book of Mark)

Huh, I had no idea what that meant, I just googled it, funny how these things work. When the main character, The He, is told that phrase, it's because he's still in doubt that he's the God figure in the story, and for him to realize that, he has to kill the doubt and start thinking in maybes and what ifs.

It's solipsism logic, open yourself to the knowing that all exists because of you and it becomes so, close yourself to it and you remain oblivious all your life.

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Adedapo's synopsis of Mosquito Farm: Mosquito Farm is a story set in futurist Nigeria about Jomi, an enforcer who after making a grave decision, descends into insanity and faces the conflict of the fact that he's been living a lie.

Mosquito Farm reminds me of Philip K. Dick stories. He's an influence of yours, right?

Yes, PKD is my favorite writer, I love how he revolutionalized paranoid fiction and the idea of subjective reality in science fiction, so Mosquito Farm is in a sense a product of that, but with Nigerian sensibilities.

Funny how you mention “air addicts” in Mosquito Farm. I always thought that my addiction to oxygen was healthy

I'd say it's healthy right now, but when we consider pollution and the amount of toxins we're exposed to every day, it isn't far off to say that the air we're breathing casually now can in decades become toxic and hallucinogenic.

I think it's my duty as a sci-fi writer to consider worst case scenarios in the future over best cases.

At the beginning of the story, two characters have a simultaneous thought. This happened to two friends of mine (one of them was my best friend and died last year)

Oh I'm so sorry to hear that.

The idea of simultaneously having a thought with another person came from my belief that us humans are evolving towards telepathy, it's happened multiple times to me with people very close to me.

Of course, the root of the thought they're sharing is revealed at the end of the story as a shared obsession amongst people in Eko Futura.

Your description of people addicted to air and hallucinating reminded me of people I know who suffered from mental illness as a result of Covid lockdowns

The story definitely grew from my perception of a post pandemic world and how it affected consciousness.

With us being in lockdown for almost a year, it affected our mental health, and that was us not interacting with infected air, I flipped that and made the insanity air borne.

At one point of the story, one of the characters say: “Thank God for Western medicine”. I don't know how Western medicine is perceived in Nigeria, but in the west there is for sure a growing mistrust for it, especially since the Covid vaccines

There's a growing mistrust for it here as well, but the idea of the story was that the people in Eko Futura have a complex against the infected people living outside the utopia, and when they say “thank God for Western medicine,” they're thanking God for its accessibility to them.

At another point of the story, someone has to decide whether he should kill a child or not. I know an Irak veteran (not the vet I interviewed here, someone else) who had to do it, he got PTSD

Oh yeah, the blueprint of the story is this fast-paced PTSD, where what he's done starts to haunt him as soon as he does it, just because he's never been confronted with something as grotesque as killing a child before.

In your story, a character makes a prayer. Here is how I pray: I talk to God spontaneously, and it helps me clarifying what I'm living/doing

That's kind of what he does too, he asks God for clarity.

At the end of the story, the hero has to make a tough choice. I think he'll make the right one

I guess we'll never know.

I have trouble understanding abstracts, that's why I didn't really understand The Dilemma. I understood Mosquito Farm, though, because it's much more concrete

Mosquito Farm is definitely more accessible, but The Dilemma was the first story I wrote after the manifesto and it perfectly encapsulates abstractism ; Mosquito Farm leans more towards Africanfuturism and paranoid fiction with abstract sensibilities.

On your X account, your pinned tweet says death to poetry. However, I think that this story is full packed of poetry

I grew up around calculative, systematic poetry, my work is a rejection of that.

What are you currently working on?

Well, I finished my first novel a couple months ago. I'm currently doing research for my next one and learning how to make short films and experimenting with visual language.

Where can we buy your novel?

It's not out yet, sadly.

A lot of my readers are atheists. What would you say to them?

I don't think anybody's really an atheist, I think we all have a strong connection to some entity, albeit ambiguous, but yeah I think I'd ask them what they think is out there, or who.

If you had one Nigerian tune to share, what would it be?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsWYR4e0ubo

You're very gifted, please keep practicing, one day you'll be famous, maybe

Thank you for this. I really believe it too. I want to reinvent literature and cinema as a Nigerian, always been my future.

Thank you for this interview, Adedapo

Thank you as well, Guy.

#adeniyi #shortinterviews

All the differences being the same is quite a conundrum in determining the efficacy of modernity.

In the grand scheme of life, I believe I am quite young. I have spent a terrible amount of my youth hunched over, frying my brain with dogshit iterations of the same content—this content is what one may call 'slop.'

People use the word slop as a means of shame; slop via social media is something so egregious that it is deplorable to even appraise its components in any capacity outside the cleavage of the internet from which it came. This criticism, however, is another weak talking point. All that we consume is slop.

We used to have individual personal phones, calculators, cameras, notebooks, etc. When IBM created smartphones and Apple popularized them, the euphoria of simplicity changed humanity's brain chemistry forever. Nearly two decades after the release of the first iPhone, we have, for some reason, come to accept the same mush gilded with 'innovation' every year. We refuse to accept that even the euphoria of innovation has its limits.

We have become Kierkegaard's worst nightmare. We have become too accustomed to simplicity that we no longer even hold the ability to lift our frail necks up and shout for it; we just lie down in expectation.

Everything is turning into slop. Our technology, our modern arts, our humor, our food. Once a week, I wake up to scroll on social media, eat a bowl of mush that was promoted as 'Protein Packed,' look away as I'm struck by an onslaught of outright bigoted farce, all while wearing clothing that will become unwearable in less than a year, just to sit on the earth forever, impossible to disintegrate.

I fear that we will continue to live like this, willingly and happily consuming slop. For now, or forever, we have been damned to swallow the regurgitations of our own incapability all in the name of ease.

I ache because I care. Do you?

Sejnas

Reclaiming Manhood with the Iron Giant and Mr. Darcy

“What is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me.”

— Hamlet, Act II, Scene 2.

When I was in college I decided to start a faith-based discussion group for men, about well, being a man. For some strange reason, I felt that it had to be very early in the morning, because getting up early was manly. In my campus-wide emails I also resorted to tasteless jokes about going out to chop down trees and break rocks with heads. Whatever this says about my social development is less relevant than the question that I was attempting to answer, however foolishly, with that group and those jokes: What does it mean to be a man?

This is a question that has tortured me since my adolescence, and tortures me still. Whether this essay will provide any relief remains to be seen. My small group, unsurprisingly, was not very popular, even with my Christian friends. Not many undergraduate guys were willing to get up for a discussion group that started at 6:30am on Friday mornings; or if they were willing, the flesh was weak. This does not mean that the group was a failure, because I had one regular attendee who I was able to talk quite deeply with, and I still think about him today. I was also told by a few people that they would have attended if it was at a less inconvenient time. This showed me that I was not the only one tortured by the question.

So, what does it mean to be a man? We will find out together, dear reader, whether I am any better equipped to answer this question than I was over a decade ago. But first I must define exactly what is meant by it. We could try to answer it by taking a survey of the men in our lives, and saying, “These examples show what it is to be a man.” But despite confounding us with wildly different conclusions, this method also reveals to us our bias. I think that most of us, consciously or unconsciously, have already taken a survey of the men in our lives, and the results have made us uneasy. That the question occurs to us reveals an insecurity about manhood that cannot be assuaged by the simple truth that no men are perfect. We would not be asking if there wasn't something resembling a real crisis. What I believe we really mean to ask is, “What does it mean to be a good man?”

In order to save myself and my readers a great deal of confusion and time, I will confine myself to defining “good manhood” in the context of two relationships that a man forms in his life. The first is a man's relationship to society, and the second is a man's relationship to women. I must also point out that my perspective as a straight, white, Christian man shapes this conversation, because in these great gray social topics, it is only our own examined experience that counts, as flawed and subjective as it is. If you would like to discount the application of the following words because of that, go right ahead, this is just one man's attempt to deconstruct and redeem his gender, and keep it interesting.

I must also note that these two relationships leave a great deal of territory open and unexplored. This openness of the question is partly why it is so torturous. The feeling a man gets, when he surveys his life and the lives of the men around him, is that we have all been pushed out into a roiling sea with no map. If we have been given compasses, they all point in different directions, because postmodern society, in destroying (perhaps rightly) the traditional framework of manhood, has not troubled itself to supply a replacement. If we take data about social outcomes and measures of happiness as a compass, we may end up 'better' in life, but we will have no way to describe why it is, in fact, 'better' to be socially and economically stable and happy about it. And we must be very careful to know what we mean when we talk about social and economic success. Is that stable job with a good income, in fact, ethical? Is the stability it provides in allowing you to give a comfortable life to your family worth more than the lives that the corporation or company you work for may or may not be destroying? If you do have an ethical job, are you hacking at the leaves of evil or the root of it? Does it pay well? Are you sacrificing your own well-being and time with your family to be a justice hero? Why are teachers paid less than lawyers? Are you involved in the lives of your kids? Is that involvement positive or negative? What about your wife or partner? Do you still cherish and value them? Do they love you? When was the last time you looked at porn? How wrong did it feel? Even if you have never looked, when was the last time you fantasized about another partner? If you are not the breadwinner, do you do your share of chores? If you do, does your partner have to remind you to do them? Do you do them well? Could you sleep easy at night if you were not the breadwinner? If you are a bachelor, do you clean your room? Can you cook? Do you care? When was the last time you volunteered for charity? Why is that relevant? Does anyone take me seriously? What makes life worth living? Do you feel lost yet?

This spiral of rhetorical questions is an example of the spiraling questions that torture me as a result of the first question. It feels almost impossible to say anything definitive, because any of the positive statements I might derive from the men that I admire—”Real men are patient.” “Real men are humble.” “Real men restrain their violence.” “Real men use their strength for the good of others.” “Real men sacrifice themselves for others.“—can also be applied to women. Is there anything gendered about patience and humility and strength and sacrifice? Indeed, if we take an honest look at the roles women have been forced to play throughout history, a patient and honest man should be somewhat overawed by the patience and humility and strength and sacrificial love of women. And even if we admit that men are, in general, physically stronger than women; how does that help us? Please do not misunderstand me. I believe that there are key differences between men and women, but I do not believe they are as easily defined as I once did. I do, in fact, do chores differently than my wife. One can tell the difference between how I fold laundry and how she folds laundry. But those differences are irrelevant. What is relevant is that so far from men and women changing, it is our society that is constantly shifting and changing around us, so that we must define ourselves in the face of the claims it makes. Society is the “atmosphere” of which Virginia Woolf speaks in Three Guineas:

“Odour then—or shall we call it 'atmosphere'?—is a very important element in professional life; in spite of the fact that like other important elements it is impalpable. It can escape the noses of examiners in examination rooms, yet penetrate boards and divisions and affect the senses of those within [...] It is true that women civil servants deserve to paid as much as men; but it is also true that they are not paid as much as men. The discrepancy is due to atmosphere” (Woolf 95).

For Virginia Woolf in 1938, atmosphere was denoted by the resistance that women faced when trying to enter the the professional spheres from which they had traditionally been denied access. As a straight white man in 2026, I cannot fully understand that atmosphere, but I will be bold enough to say that the bewilderment I tried to illustrate with so many rhetorical questions is how I perceive the atmosphere that men live in now. It is perhaps not as potentially damaging to the mind and body as the atmosphere that people of other genders live in, but that is not for me to say, and I do not think a competition about who has it worse would be productive. All metaphors have limits. We would do well to keep those limits in mind as we move from this long, confused preamble, to the body of the essay.

Man Vs. Violence: The Iron Giant

The Iron Giant is a 1999 animated film about a robot who crash lands off the coast of Maine during the Cold War. The Giant suffers damage to the head, and is diverted from its original purpose of destruction. The principal human character, a boy named Hogarth, discovers the Giant near his house and befriends him, but the military comes to investigate the crash landing, and Hogarth finds himself trying to hide the giant.

We are given two men (other than the Giant and the general) to compare in this movie. Dean, a beatnik junkyard sculpture artist; and Kent Mansley, the government agent investigating the crash. Hogarth's father died before the start of the movie, so it can be said that he is searching for a father figure. He is also living in an atmosphere of fear. The students are 'educated' in class with a film that superimposes a mushroom cloud over a peaceful town. “Suddenly,” the narrator says. “Without warning, ATOMIC HOLOCAUST.” From Kent, the rude, take-charge, slugger/bucko/chief/champ, we are shown the 'manly' response to fear of the Unknown Other. He says, “Who built it? The Russians? The Chinese? Martians? Canadians?! I DON'T CARE! All I know is we didn't build it, and that's reason enough to assume the worst and blow it to kingdom come!” This quote reveals that Mansley's fear, masquerading as bravado (he steals cars and ogles women and threatens to separate Hogarth from his mother in the name of national security), is based on the fear of losing power. This is the familiar demon that drives competition among men and the basis of that buzz-phrase, 'toxic masculinity.' Whether based on the violence of our ancient past or not, I have observed that, in general, boys are groomed to train in violence. And if not violence, some skill or specialization that can be used to gain or defend power. This, I believe, is why so many video games (most of which, in the early days, were made by men), involve fighting and big boobs. Why were atomic bombs built? To defend power. What justifies cruelty in conquest and racist policies? The defense of power. Viewed from this perspective, it is no surprise to me that white men have been the main perpetrators of the toxic male defense of power, because they have been the principal beneficiaries of that power. This is what I believe is driving the cruelty of Trump's politics, as well as the complicity that allowed him to get where he is.

James Baldwin once pointed out that the majority is not the group that is most numerous, it is the group that has the most influence [^1]. In other words, white men are afraid because our influence is eroding, and our cruel and cowardly politicians are desperately trying to hold onto it. When I watched this movie with my wife, she commented that Kent Mansley is a little unbelievable. After all, he disobeys direct orders after the general realizes that the Iron Giant only reacts to violence, and orders a nuclear strike on his own location. But having observed men throughout my life, and having observed the self-destructive impulses in myself, I can easily (sadly) imagine a Mansley. “I can do anything I want, whenever I want,” says Kent. This is the unspoken belief that drives the actions of even the most gentle of men. The fear of losing the license to do whatever a man wants is what leads to complicit passivity and self destruction. It is only by confronting and defeating this fear, over and over, that a man can walk the path to true manhood.

I must also take time to point out that so many of the movies and video games and books that we imagine to be found in man caves are full of heroes who are defined by their ability to commit violence. Heroes like John Wayne, John Wick, John McClane, John 117 and all the other non-Johns that are really various incarnations of Odysseus would not be in our media if they didn't have some violence to commit. The noblest of them use their violence to protect the innocent, and there is certainly nobility in putting oneself in harm's way, but it bears pointing out that it would not be necessary for them to do so if men were not so violent in the first place. Haley Bennet's character in Antoine Fuqua's The Magnificent Seven would not have to say “These men are here to help us,” if there were not already hundreds of men there to kill and rape them. I like watching Denzel Washington dish out justice as much as the next guy, but we must not lose sight of why that dishing out of justice feels so cathartic, and where it might lead us. In fact we can see where it has gotten us. The cowards who find their way to power spend trillions of our tax money on instruments of murder and death that they can drop on people from three thousand miles away. They are not putting their lives on the line when they can buy a Rolex and pretend to be James Bond. And so far from having a just cause like Sam Chisolm's, their cause has mostly been money. Perhaps, because I cannot muster enough empathy to understand their actions, the root cause of it is a Mansley-like terror that the great stolen horde they are sitting on could one day be stolen back, and they are willing to do anything to keep it all to themselves. What a pathetic way to spend one's life. What a pathetic failure of manhood, which ought to be marked by a willingness to sacrifice power for the beloved community.

The other man we are given to examine is Dean. He owns the town junkyard, is something of an artist, listens to jazz, drinks espresso, stays up late, has a cool bathrobe, lets Hogarth and the Iron Giant hide out at his place. He's cool, man. Dean is a counterpoint to Mansley, and as a white man on the lower echelons of privilege, he is able to show a better reaction to the threat of violence and the loss of power. When Hogarth spills his insecurities after drinking Dean's espresso, Dean responds with decent advice, “Who cares what those creeps think, you know? They don't decide who you are, you do. You are who you choose to be.” This advice is more relevant to the Iron Giant's journey, but it also reveals the all-important fault in the Mansley way of life, which is that a man does have a choice. As Steinbeck so gloriously represented in East of Eden, “Thou mayest” is the antidote to sick fear and cowardice. Yes, confronting the fear of losing power means confronting the fear of death, but we must all face death whether we want to or not. “Ultimately,” wrote Martin Luther King, “One's sense of manhood must come from within him.”[^2]. But Dean is not the most heroic representation of this confrontation because he is not the hero of this movie, the Iron Giant is.

When we first meet the Iron Giant he is devouring a power line near Hogarth's home. Hogarth is home alone because his mom has to work late, and hearing the noise, the boy picks up his BB Gun and goes to investigate the noise. The Giant gets tangled in the lines and seems to be in pain. Hogarth starts to run away but decides to help him by flipping a lever to turn off the power station. In the scuffle, Hogarth drops his gun and the Giant stomps on it before passing out and waking up. This crushing of the gun is symbolic for the Iron Giant, because the Iron Giant, quite literally, was supposed to be a gun. He comes from an alien planet and later in the movie he decimates the US forces with futuristic weaponry. But because he was damaged, and because of his relationship with Hogarth, the Iron Giant realizes that he can choose who he wants to be. Perhaps the most affecting scene that explicitly confronts violence is the scene in which Hogarth and the Iron Giant meet a deer in the woods. The Giant is moved by the deer's beauty, but a few moments later we hear a gunshot, and the deer is dead. Two hunters come and are terrified by the Iron Giant. One of them drops his gun as he runs away. Hogarth explains that the deer is dead, that he was killed by a gun. Later that night Hogarth and the Giant have a heart to heart about death:

HOGARTH: I know you feel bad about the deer. But it's not your fault. Things die. It's part of life. It's bad to kill. But it's not bad to die.
IRON GIANT: You die?
HOGARTH: Well... yes, someday.
IRON GIANT: I die?
HOGARTH: I don't know. You're made of metal...but you have feelings. And you think about things. And that means you have a soul. And souls don't die.
IRON GIANT: Soul?
HOGARTH: Mom says it's something inside of all good things... and that it goes on forever and ever.

It is the Iron Giant who is confronted with the choice between violence or death. His programming tells him to destroy, and he is ultimately the strongest 'man' in the world of the movie. He could, if he chose, completely conquer the world. But Hogarth convinces him to reject his violence. The climax of the movie then builds, as Mansley disobeys orders and tells the ship to launch the nuke, and the Iron Giant chooses to collide with it in the air in order to save the town.

Shortly before this climax, Hogarth and the Iron Giant are playing in the junkyard. Hogarth is pretending that the Iron Giant is Atomo (a robot sent to destroy earth). Hogarth uses a toy gun and it activates the Giant's weapons, and he fires a laser. Dean saves Hogarth and yells at the Iron Giant, calling him a “big gun.” The Giant tries to refuse, but he is scared of hurting Hogarth and runs away. We cut to two boys on a roof on the lookout for the giant metal man. The railing breaks and they fall. The Iron Giant makes a diving catch to save them in the middle of town. When Hogarth and Dean find him, the Giant smiles and says, “I am not a gun.”

I cannot tell you exactly why this line stuck in my mind for so long after watching the Iron Giant for the first time as an adult, but I think I can now. As I envision what happens immediately after the Iron Giant says this (he is shot in the back by a tank), I feel as though I am watching a vision of what it feels like to be a man with good intentions. The world, as much as we would wish it were not so, does not exist to validate our dreams and best hopes. The world of men is mostly indifferent and randomly hostile. Moved by my better angels, I have made declarations of intent, only to be shot in the back and induced to reach for my weapons (for me, some plan to be profitable and the comfort of video games or worse). This is the same note that resonates with me when I watch Robert Rodriguez's El Mariachi, in which a guitar player (a mariachi) is induced to pick up a guitar case full of weapons instead of his instrument. Goodness and beauty do not simply come about, they are fought and sacrificed for. They are missed by fateful decisions which rely on safety and the lie that the highest good we can do for our families is make them comfortable and happy. They are sacrificed for in the middle of the night, in the most mundane ways, by giving up what you and the world once thought was glorious. Normal guys like me don't get to go out by blowing up a nuke (I hope?), and one of the hardest struggles I have faced (embarrassingly), is admitting just how much I want the glory of doing something as impressive and heroic and easy to praise—and giving that up for goods that are far greater than glory.

We are off the rails now, blown apart in the pieces of my life experience, much like the Iron Giant at the end of the movie. But now, let's try to bring those pieces back together. It is time to turn to Jane Austen and Mr. Darcy.

Man Vs. Woman: Mr. Darcy

“What are men to rocks and mountains?”

— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Ch 27.

If we are confused by a man's relationship to society, there would seem to be little hope that we can find ourselves in his relationship to woman. What topic has been written about, dreamed about, sung about, lied about, more? But enough excuses. Why, of all people, are we turning to Jane Austen? Perhaps it is because outsiders are sometimes the most suited to bring insight to a muddy relationship. Perhaps because Mr. Darcy is famous. He, by the most warped of all consensuses (memes), is an ideal man. Why? It is because Mr. Darcy, when confronted with evidence of his pride, takes proactive steps to fix himself and his harmful actions.

When we first meet Mr. Darcy there is no doubt of his pride. He snubs Elizabeth at a ball and passes the evening rather grumpily (Ch 3). Darcy is described as “haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting” (Ch 4). Through a series of misunderstandings, Elizabeth comes to despise Mr. Darcy almost as much as if he were her worst enemy. She hears and readily believes rumors that he disowned his innocent god-brother, she is disgusted by his cold and haughty manner in their social interactions, and she is utterly shocked when he proposes to her. It is important to note that Elizabeth's family, though not poor, is in need of a male heir because the father's estate is entailed. His five daughters, none of whom are allowed to inherit the estate, will be destitute if he dies without a male heir, and he and his wife are now too old to consider trying again. Since Mr. Darcy is exceedingly rich, many a woman in Elizabeth's position might have sacrificed her happiness for her family. But she is our heroine, and she is also somewhat prejudiced:

“There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense” (Ch 24).

She refuses him outright. Indeed, even a woman prepared to sacrifice her happiness would be put off by the way Darcy presents his proposal. “His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which judgement had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.” It is in spite of his better judgement that he proposes; in separating the kind (and also rich) Mr. Bingley from Elizabeth's sister, he “has been kinder to his friend than himself”; he asks (not unjustly, for Elizabeth's mother and younger sisters are quite ridiculous) if he should be expected to rejoice in the hope of relations “so decidedly beneath” his own.

There are not many readers who do not sympathize with Elizabeth when she refuses Darcy, but when we learn from Darcy's letter the truth about his god-brother (a prodigal who tries to seduce Darcy's teenage sister for the fortune), things get more complicated. Add to this the fact that Darcy's behavior is not so rude as it seems to our culture. Darcy, like Elizabeth, is surrounded by rather ridiculous and haughty acquaintances (except for Mr. Bingley). And his grumpiness might be caused by a perception of just how preposterous British aristocratic society was. As a very rich man, he would probably have been treated with a great deal of flattery and sycophantic adoration (typified by the attentions of Ms. Bingley). His attraction to Elizabeth seems to be based on her willingness to converse with him honestly and intellectually (and her “fine eyes”). I say seems because Austen, like Shakespeare, leaves a great deal of interpretation up to the reader. To me, it seems that Elizabeth engages him on subjects that he has never been able to talk about with anyone else (Ch 11). This kind of intimacy is “dangerous” because it is the type of intimacy on which true connubial felicity is founded. But at the time of his proposal he is still too proud not to assume that Elizabeth would be happy to say yes. Her refusal exposes himself, to himself. And he is probably saying, at the same time Elizabeth is saying, “Till this moment, I never knew myself” (Ch 36).

The self knowledge that intimacy with another can prompt is one of the greatest benefits of marriage. It is also one of the greatest destroyers of marriage, for if either partner is not prepared to change and admit their own faults, they will drift away because the other partner will be a reminder of that fault that they wish to run from. What makes Darcy remarkable as a male literary figure is that he allows this encounter to change him. When Elizabeth meets him later by chance, on a trip with her aunt and uncle, his manners are remarkably warm. He is friendly and deferential to people “decidedly beneath” his own station. He invites her uncle to fish, and leaves Elizabeth (who also allows intimacy to change her) somewhat astonished. “It cannot be for me, it cannot be for my sake that his manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this. It is impossible that he should love me” (Ch 43). Then comes the climax, in which Elizabeth's flirty younger sister elopes with Darcy's awful god-brother, and Darcy saves her by a significant sacrifice, a sacrifice which he wishes to remain secret and for which he expects nothing from Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy is legendary because he shows very simply just what love for a woman can mean for a man:

“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit... Such I was, from eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased” (Ch 58).

So far from being an unrealistic ideal (except for the money), he is a picture of how men really ought to act (accounting for differences of culture and personality) towards a woman. While it is true that two partners in a healthy relationship ought to give, it is very important that love be given without expectation or record keeping. Elizabeth, indeed, is also changed and allows her love to forgive and honor Darcy without compromising her ideals. This is, I think, really what that most misquoted of Apostles meant when he wrote “submit to one another,”[^3] for 'submission,' perhaps not the best translation of the Greek word, is one of the highest forms of love. Just as two partners in a dance must yield even as they propel and support each other, so must lovers.

Man Vs. Himself: Sacrifice and Active Love

“I can give her everything, but not my male independence.”[^4]

— Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina.

Where does this leave us? What conclusions can we draw? What does it mean to be a good man? The only theme I can draw from our survey of The Iron Giant and Pride and Prejudice is the theme of sacrifice. The Iron Giant sacrifices himself and his violent purpose to save Hogarth and the town, and Mr. Darcy sacrifices his pride to properly love Elizabeth. This is an ancient theme, that might not bear repeating if it were not so necessary to repeat. We have come a long way, and part of the crisis of manhood that we can all smell is, I think, the subconscious terror that men feel when they sense that the foundations of society that once upheld their Power and their Pride are crumbling. Perhaps now that there is less power and pride to give up (though we still have a long way to go), it is the concept of manhood itself that must be sacrificed.

When I was in high school, I was a big fan of the original NCIS with Mark Harmon's Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Gibbs, though not exactly macho, is nonetheless something of a man's man. He catches criminals, works on boats in his basement, and only drinks black coffee. There was something about the image of him that I wanted to emulate, so when I started drinking coffee I drank it black. Did I like it? Quite honestly, not really, but I stuck with it and still drink it black today. This is the power of 'atmosphere,' it quite literally changed my taste buds. How much more powerful can it be, then, when we consider issues more important than taste. What can this atmosphere do to how a man treats women, where he goes to work, who he seeks friendships with, and what he values? Atmosphere, in shaping these things, has the power to shape almost the entire course of a man's life. But only if we let it.

When I say that the concept of manhood must be sacrificed, I do not mean that all concept of gender ought to be thrown out. There are physiological differences that we ignore at our own peril, but these differences have nothing to do with what we wear or where we work or how much we can bench press or who cooks dinner or who does the laundry or what sort of movies we watch. So much of what has been spoken of as 'manhood' throughout my entire life has been entirely cultural. When I say that the concept of manhood must be sacrificed, I mean that a man ought to do things simply because they are the right thing to do and not because they validate a meaningless social vanity.[^5] This means that I ought to care for my family as best as I am able because I love them and it is my duty as a parent. This means that I should place the needs of my wife's body over the needs of my own. This means that not being the primary breadwinner should not be a source of shame. I have struggled for years with my self esteem as a stay at home parent because I did not realize how much I wanted a career until I didn't have one. All I can say is that because the culture I move in accepts Moms into the role of homemaker more readily, I have found myself between worlds, and I would be lying if I said I did not have to face my envy and strangle it far more frequently than I would wish. Every friend and acquaintance I have talked to concludes that being a stay at home Dad is really noble and practical for our situation, and indeed this is a conclusion I have come to over and over, but knowledge and true belief are two different things. Knowing that the air is bad does not help you breathe in it. This is why I say the concept of manhood has to be sacrificed. This does not mean trading in your truck for a minivan, but asking yourself, every time you must move in the atmosphere of culture, why am I doing this? Do I really want this thing? Do I really enjoy this activity? Is my sense of self worth coming from outside of me, or from within?

In Three Guineas, Virginia Woolf points out the ridiculous outfits and baubles that the military (and then a strictly male) world uses to distinguish itself: “Your finest clothes are those that you wear as soldiers.” She also does not fail to include the academic world, with its robes and wigs and titles, and illustrates the vanity of men by providing a counterexample: “A woman who advertised her motherhood by a tuft of horsehair on the left shoulder would scarcely, you will agree, be a venerable object.” She then concludes that the best way for women entering professional life to discourage war (a major topic of her essay), is to “refuse all such distinctions and all such uniforms for ourselves.” In a similar way, I believe that the path to true manhood is the refusal of meaningless distinctions and uniforms. Whether they be video game skins, medals, watches, clothes, trucks, social media statuses, likes, competitions, hobbies, Strava times, podcast views, church leadership positions, or Magic decks. In short, any thing, even any good thing, that a man can use to give them self the appearance of good needs to be examined and held with an open palm.

The second, and perhaps more practical application, is the importance of rejecting passivity. The Iron Giant restrains his violence, but he chooses to expose himself in order to save the kids and the town. Mr. Darcy, rather than letting things run their course, actively fixes his mistakes with a prompt from anywhere but his own conscience. I believe that cowardly passivity has been the cause of more evil than any other sin. Where was Adam when Eve was with the snake? Structures of oppression have been allowed to persist because millions of men have silently watched and gone with the flow. Only when the current deposits them in a stagnant pool, and they realize that their cowardice might be exposed, does the bottomless terror grip their stomachs and propel them to desperate cruelty. To be a man is to sacrifice vain desires and to love actively. As a father, I believe it is my duty to seek out my kids, engage them, and teach them the values that are important to know before they ask. This is to be done with love, gentleness, and full respect for their humanity and agency. If they do not have the skills or the moral fortitude to engage with the world by the time they graduate high school, I bear a great deal of the blame. To be a man is to prevent disasters before they happen, and not expect a medal for it. In my role as a husband, I am to seek out my wife not for comfort or validation, but to love and honor and woo her as a woman “worthy of being pleased.” As a citizen, it is my duty to engage with society and act for its benefit instead of trying to squeeze everything I can from it. These concepts of sacrifice and active love can be applied to friendships and family. Indeed they must be applied by the man to his own life, because no one else can do it for him. It is, tragically, much easier written than done, requiring constant humility and grace. For me, this involves a great deal of prayer and grit, in order to pick myself up and keep trying when I fail over and over and over. But it must be done if a man is to reclaim a sense of manhood that comes from within, and by living and breathing out that sense of self, change the atmosphere that has stifled all genders for so long.

Footnotes

[1] “Now, what I have been trying to suggest in all this is that the only useful definition of the word “majority” does not refer to numbers , and it does not refer to power. It refers to influence.” You will notice that I use influence and power somewhat synonymously. I believe Baldwin was trying to make the distinction that whoever is “in power” (elected or un-elected officials) is not necessarily the one with the influence. For the scope of my essay, I think that my point has been made. Majority does not have to do with numbers or even representation, but with who can influence the decisions of those in power.

[2] “I think the aura of paramilitarism among the black militant groups speaks much more of fear than it does of confidence. I know, in my own experience, that I was much more afraid in Montgomery when I had a gun in my house. When I decided that, as a teacher of philosophy of nonviolence, I couldn't keep a gun, I came face to face with the question of death and I dealt with it. And from that point on, I no longer needed a gun nor have I been afraid. Ultimately, one's sense of manhood must come from within him.“

[3] Ephesians 5:21: “...submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ.“

[4] This line is thought by Vronsky, the man that Anna leaves her husband for, when Anna is starting to become jealous. Vronsky is unable to give up his “male independence” to be a truly devoted partner.

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#essay #JaneAusten #TheIronGiant #VirginiaWoolf #JamesBaldwin

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Bibliography

Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. Act II, Scene 2.

Woolf, Virginia. Three Guineas. Hogarth Press, Mecklenburgh Square, London, 1943. Accessed on Internet Archive.

The Iron Giant. Directed by Brad Bird, Warner Bros. Feature Animation, 1999.

Baldwin, James. “In Search of a Majority: An Address.” Nobody Knows My Name. Collected Essays. Library of America, New York, NY, 1998.

The Magnificent Seven. Directed by Antoine Fuqua, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures, 2016.

Steinbeck, John. East of Eden. Penguin Group, New York, NY, 2002.

King, Martin Luther Jr. A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King Jr. “A Testament of Hope.” Harper Collins, 1986. Page 323.

El Mariachi. Directed by Robert Rodriguez, Los Hooligans Productions, 1993.

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Arcturus Publishing Limited, London, 2011.

Tolstoy, Leo. Anna Karenina. Part Six, Chapter 25. Penguin Group. New York, NY. 2000.

NCIS. Created by Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill. Bellisarius Productions, CBS Studios, 2003-present.

time heals the old wounds / only if you allow light / into your dark heart

Finished reading Greenblatt's THE SWERVE. It's good, but not as good as it started out. The first half is quite superb, but the second half is far less interesting. Many good historical tidbits in there, but it does suffer from a terribly myopic view of history and scientific development while pretending to possess a grand scope of things. Not so much actually. Still worth the read.

Couple days left in Houston before my return to Cairo. Snatched SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE from my storage unit to reread on the flight (a full decade since I read it), and am abhorred by the sheer quantity of my possessions. Too much of it is stuff I just can't let go of, but I think I can probably—with some effort—do away with half (after having already done away with a lot).

Last day with my kid, “the plan is to do nothing but look at Pokemon cards and eat ice-cream and watch three toons” according to him. Obviously, that's not how things will go down, but it'll wholesome and sweet nonetheless as the world outside grows more insane and stupid and inhumane.

#journal #reads

here I am again / repeating emotions fill / my heart with despair

— Tu ne dors pas ?

— Non. Tu n’arrives pas non plus ?

— Non, ça doit être la lune.

On a commencé à parler, à la lueur de cette jolie lune, à la table de la cuisine.

Moi, c’était pas la lune. Je lui ai déballé, toutes les petites piques, toutes les exclusions, les humiliations. C’était comme au collège avant que j’en change pour être avec ma copine. Cette même copine avec qui on était ensemble ces vacances-ci. Mais pas dans la même équipe. Harcelée par son équipe à elle, par une cheffe d’équipe qui m’aimait bien. Elle et ma cheffe, juste devant moi, ont rigolé qu’elles auraient bien voulu nous échanger.

Me faire hurler dans les oreilles par la coconne de l’équipe. Dire à une fille qu’on lui a parlé derrière son dos (jamais faire ça, jamais) et elle revient avec l’hypocrite en question qui dit que je mens. Les filles qui viennent me demander des comptes parce que sur mon pyjama il y a une étiquette (10 ? 12 ?) ans alors que j’en ai 13.

Les cheftaines, adultes, qui ne calculent rien. Chaque jour un petit laïus inspiré de la Bible et des règles des Guides de France, en mode ravi de la crèche aimévoulézunlézotres. Cinq minutes après, comme si ces mots n’avaient aucun sens, moquons-nous les uns des autres.

Ah si, les adultes ont fait une réunion d’équipe, une fois. Les filles ont râlé sur moi. J’étais pas très camping à la dure, un peu plus enfant qu’ado, pas du tout intéressée par Di Caprio, complètement autiste. Est-une raison valable ?

Je n’ai pas souvenir de ce qu’ont dit les cheftaines, qui avaient maximum 22 ans. Mais ça n’avait pas arrangé la situation.

— Papa, les Guides, c’est fini pour moi.

My last obligatory Chuck Norris joke:

Chuck Norris didn’t die. He was busy roundhouse kicking all the demons straight to hell before resting in heaven.

#chucknorris #rip