Making an impression

More powerful than a locomotive

Immediately the image of Superman popped into your head. Without launching into a diatribe on the subjects of either Superman or General Semantics (which we WILL cover later,) words paint a picture in the minds of those reached, whether those are written or spoken. However disappointing this may be, I was simply referring to my mental train, which is back on track after being derailed some days ago. I was inspired by an unexpected source and the train gradually gained speed.

One never knows when the muse will speak, but she whispers in the ear and dances across the synapses a midst the gray matter; the subtle mistress enticing you to write though it is not what you had planned. Phrases continued to leap across my brain, which led me to a Victor Hugo quote:

“Intelligence is the wife, imagination is the mistress, memory is the servant.” 

I like it. But it's a little obtuse. So I played with it for awhile and came up with the Dr. Seuss version:

"First we learn, then we create. And finally we regurgitate."

 Not my best work, but that's what we're getting to (even though I'm taking the long way around.) And now this is no longer another one sentence paragraph that will make my editor insane.

Doctor Who?

So, I'm winding down for the night and I'm channel surfing. I spot Doctor Who on the guide. The episode is Vincent and the Doctor. Hmmm, I think, browsing the description and reading that the Doctor and Amy travel through time to locate Vincent Van Gogh. That sounds interesting. I love Doctor Who and I've enjoyed an art museum or two in my day.  I wasn't expecting this to lead to so much more. (I also wasn't planning to be awake at 2 a.m., but my friends, here we are again.)

There were two pieces of dialogue that struck a chord. The first was the delivery of the Museum's Curator, goaded into commentary on Van Gogh's work by The Doctor. He and Amy had brought Van Gogh to the future to get a first-hand account of his significance, so in this fictional account, he hears:

"Van Gogh is the finest painter of them all. Certainly the most popular, great painter of all time. The most beloved, his command of colour most magnificent. He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world, no one had ever done it before. Perhaps no one ever will again."

Van Gogh is moved to tears, overjoyed at the critique. It reflected my own sentiment that pain is truly easy to portray. We are prone to find the negative more believable. We are more able to connect with pain, the kind we've experienced in our own lives. The ability to turn that into something positive is extraordinary.

The second line was delivered by the Doctor in response to Amy's disappointment that despite them bring Van Gogh to the understanding that his work was revered, he still met with a tragic and untimely death. He consoled her with:

"The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

Ron White said it best

I'm going to break the mold here. I'm going to post twice tonight. This was merely the prequel, or as Ron White once said, "Now I told you that story to tell you this story."

Over the years, My writing is comprised of poems and essays. I've penned some lengthy journal entries and written love letters. I have some short stories in my stable as well. There is one I am quite fond of and I have been working on it sporadically over the last 20 plus years. It is long overdue to be complete, but it has a life of it's own. It has be reworked several times and I am still unsure of how it should end. I have shared it with select individuals over the years, but it is time to start sharing some actual writing here, so I will post a portion of this story as my second entry tonight.

I would share the whole story but as I mentioned before, it isn't finished yet. What else have you come to expect, from the Incomplete Writer?