Games, and fantasies, and fiction
A remarkable amount of real life
is dedicated to things that aren’t.
At least, aren’t economics, or
politics, or feeding the hungry.
Some say that this is the tragedy;
not that these things exist, but
that people exist who don’t care
about those things, and instead,
care about Josh Freeman’s fantasy
production, and Dr. Who’s conclusion
and Stephen King novels, and music
and the whole other world that lives
completely in the mind, unaware of
not only that which is being said
subtextually, but explicitly.
This episode is about the hunger
of a world; it is like our world.
But nothing changes. “That was fun.”
We built literary theory for that.
Other find this a tragedy:
that there is not art for those
who are deepest in need,
that expression will heal wounds,
then bring peace, then fill bellies.
This art, about the same things,
invested deeply with meaning,
that meaning called to attention
by virtue of who made it.
“This is a refugee’s painting.”
But the deepest tragedy, to me,
is a whole world invested in
one or the other, this or that
meaning vs. enjoyment,
sport vs. art,
heart vs. head,
beauty vs. intellect
telling vs. fixing
money vs. money.
These are false dichotomies;
choosing a side is a lie.
Both, and many, and all;
a world making, then responding,
then making again.
Fiction is in books: books are real.
Real men with hearts and brains
make money entertaining us with
dazzling displays of artistry
in the 60-yard touchdown run.
This is all real; no less a part
of this world, and how it should be
than feeding the hungry, and justice
We should work for justice,
we should seek peace.
But to appreciate and enjoy and know
that the mission is not all
and there are mountains beyond mountains
even if we climb this one right now;
that is real as well.
That is real.
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