Francis Meyrick

BOUNCE (1)

“This story was inspired by… “
Why does this phrase annoy me? Why should I allow five little words to make me contemplate a headlong rush to the nearest barf bag? It doesn’t seem right to have such a strong reaction. I should be more philosophical, and lead a more contemplative life.
I, as one who strives towards the monastic disposition, a chaste, quiet life, interrupted only by the occasional hymn, why should I feel my blood pressure elevated by a simple phrase such as the one above?

I think it’s because it sounds so poetic. So…(sniff!)…ephemeral. So dreamy.
I have this mental picture of a giant tableau, a painting covering the entire wall. And not just any wall. In my mind’s eye, I see a wall in the Versailles palace, home of Louis the Fourteenth, the famed Roi-Soleil, the Sun-King, who was famed for strutting the immaculately manicured lawns and gardens, with their fountains, and their ponds.
With a servant toddling faithfully along behind, in case his Royalship had need.
The servant, head bowed, humble, busying himself with his sacred duty.
Carrying the royal piss-pot.
It is in this palace, glittering with splendor, whilst the masses starve in Paris, and hungrily roam the streets, spreading vile mutterings of revolution, that I shall place this enthralling tableau. Painted, nay, crafted I say, so carefully by a master and his students, working as a single team, as one, to illuminate to the world….
…to bring forth, the glorious spectacle of inspiration….

Yes, can you see… the Muse of Poetry, looking down from the heights of Mount Olympus, under the watchful, approving glance of the great Zeus himself? Can you see the shaft of inspiration, sharp as a lance, yet fly from his finger tips, its swift, sure flight heading unstoppable for the poor, naked wretch, cowering pathetically on the dimly lit stage of human strife? And can you see that… undeserving poet, that lonely bard, trying to escape the lance? Can you see him, his upflung arms, protesting vainly to the heavens…
“I am not worthy… “

Ahhhhh…..Yuk! Where’s that bag?
That’s why I hate “This story was inspired by… ” With a passion.
So I, humbly, propose the death of this phrase. I propose we hear it no more.
I propose it goeth the way of all things excessively poetic…
The trash can.

What, you may ask, shall we replace it with?
This is an excellent question, and there are several choices.
I, for my part, as part of my struggle against conformity, intend to bounce.
You’re going to do…what!?
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce-bounce-bounce.
Off other writers. Off ideas. Off reviewers.

And occasionally, just to amuse myself, if the monastic life and the hymns start getting on my nerves, I guess…

I can always go clear my head on an inspirational brick wall or two. Right…?

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on December 28, 2008, 10:48 am