While listening to the audiobook of The Hobbit, narrated by the wonderful Andy Serkis my mind keeps coming back to,“…incineration?” Bilbo Baggins questioned, reading his contract aloud with a shift to a higher vocal octave (as it gets portrayed in the film adaptation). Seemingly fitting, incineration, “and poof, you’re nothing but a pile of ash,” as the dwarves then explained. From ashes spring new forests and ages— like the woods around Mount St. Helens or rebuilt Chicago after massive inferno— then grown up to burn again and again and again. Included in this imagining is scenes of incinerating planetary energy like aforementioned volcano; a quick burst of breathed flame from the breast of a dragon such as Smaug; or the mushroom shaped plume obliterating and charring bodies into shadowy outlines like ash-sculpted hollow ghosts in Pompeii— a singe of incredible pain then cut to black in the detonation of an atomic bomb.
Although it was written prior to the race for the weapon even began, not even being published in the United States until 1938, that Smaug in Erebor could be a metaphor to nuclear power would be an iffy choice of posit. Nonetheless the general principle of Tolkien’s writings in an attempt at creating a new mythology for Europe is a high emphasis on food and cheer— delightful, vital revelry in simple, worked but plentiful existence— has more of an enriching value than feuding Lords and Lieutenants over hordes of gold and shiny superficial minerals. Simultaneously however those simplicities would also be the drive for even such conflicts: the three F’s being motivation for almost any action taken by any entity of any hominid species; taken individually and in broad, long-term combat, coming down to the brass tax bare minimum of Feasting and Fucking, leading to said Fighting.
Hobbits coming about in their own way but ultimately their docile nature comes down to being a form of mini-men who self-domesticated to such a comfortable extent and leisure any feud is tantamount to any average neighborly or familial dispute. While there is importance placed on objects like forks and doilies it’s in the sense of family heirlooms still practically useful. Objects with an aesthetic attractiveness to them then are imbued with the instinct made to suit them— stand ins for those tendencies, keys to the castle… simplistically.
Grandiosely the more gold the more food and whores to continue; riches accessing anything anytime anywhere. As can be seen with cases like the Epstein class, those like Thror amass unimaginable quantities of wealth and become bored. Tolkien called it ‘dragon sicknes,’ and I would, personally, attach the real-world terms of nihilism in hedonistic excess. Some might threaten nuclear Armageddon over the gold like Smaug laying waste to Lake Town or Dale or recently with the American Commander in Chief gave heavy implication of using atomic weaponry in annihilating an the civilization of Iran… Dragon as allegory to that developed destructive technology as time goes on could be taken in with added information from the Silmarillion where like Trinity test building up to the Tsar Bomba and Morgoth’s continent-obliterating Ancalagon in comparison to the younger one under the Lonely Mountain…
imagination
of incineration:
reams of desolation,
last instance of spectacle
fiery death egregore,
mass final blast
blinded last gasp,
rasping for last intimate clasp
heads held, engulfed in flaming ash—
vagrant dancing alone in the aftermath
[…] […] […]
Now rewatching the Netflix adaptation of Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba’s comic series the Umbrella Academy, I am once more greeted to part of the opening, introductory scenes (including of course, Klaus, the amazing junky twink seance) in which while in separate rooms the Hargreeves siblings dance to I Think We’re Alone Now— fitting for them in their death of Sir Reginald their adopted (alien) father. Each letting the tune flow through them to their own groove. Reminding me much of how I act on my own while on walks to get coffee or around the bend at 3am. It’s likenable to the song Dancing With Myself— “if I had the chance, I’d ask the world to dance; and I’ll be dancing with myself.”
On some level I can think it as being in a state of open-range elation, maybe a subset of maniacal tendency intertwined with synesthesia paired imagination— even in depressive rumination on a walk there’s an ecstatic element to it.
Thinking back, a past pondering led me to Grimes’ explanation of her song My Name Is Dark as about being in said elevated state of not giving a fuck anymore in the face of collapsing comfort. ‘Fuck it, we ball’ as the internet says. Far from escapism, rather having the best time while in the inescapable clutch of inserting entropy. Like dancing during the detonation of an atom bomb.
[…] […] […]
Elation an added head-rush
Fucking entropy face-first,
Enjoyment wrapped in the noose;
Black bright burst
you can let your hair loose—
Dancing in a preplanned hearse
No comments:
Post a Comment