As I begin to ready myself for hours of uninterrupted attention to whatever I'll dapple in with Painter, I browse my iPhone and find Ann Coulter is making mention of rowdy students at some eastern college on Twitterverse. Empathy is expressed; no contentious thoughts. I recall some past events of my past.
Mid-2005+ onward I was looking for a vehicle to best propel my treatise, my novel. Fictional characters and themes I'm having difficulty exploring in depth. I'm delving into themes where an older dude such as myself is mentoring others to the particulars of what my treatise reveals. Perhaps through Logic Pro X and I'll be on stage; make lots of money if luck is with me. The lecture circuit is out I realize. People with more resources than I hear me talk and will take my ideas for their own. A good mathematician would dazzle an audience via YouTube better than I. Six months after I run a lecture circuit I'm a nobody compared to the mathematician who's raking in all the greens and booking all publicity.
Searching for the better way to exploit my treatise discovery and one day I find Mara on the internet. I'm toying with the idea to teach the treatise at a college or school, perhaps an institution for wayward young folk. I won't make money or win the Nobel Prize, the mathematicians will but I'll enjoy the time with young folk, and have the satisfaction of knowing I made some kind of mark in the world, I'm thunking at the time. And with these thoughts I know I'm dumbing down. The want for big bucks keeps me from writing letters to pursue this avenue of publicity.
Check out Mara. She talks about getting tickly from taking Tylenol. She wants to experience that feeling again, too. "So did I," I tell myself as I watch. I'm into my early teens and had fractured my arm. Doctor prescribed Nembutal: the pain was too much to keep me from a good night's sleep. Early evening after supper moms gave me one (maybe two capsules? Moms was a nurse before marrying, … I don't remember) and told me to lie down. Lying on the bed in the darkness of the room and for an hour or so, and with the throbbing pain in my arm, on and off the feeling is like carbonated bubbles traveling up the spine to the back of the head. Never felt that before, and tickley, yes indeed. Drugs, even some foods can do that sometimes to some people, moms says. A learning experience it was; not from rote. Years later of course I did, (and hundreds of thousands of the best and the brightest academics did not) first realize Joy opposed to Pain in relation to homeostasis, after months of reading and editing the as-yet non-graphical treatise. What could possibly contend with Pain in relation to homeostasis in the mind of a learned, pedantic biologist, psychologist, sociologist, philosopher? Tasting Nembutal's effect/affect that evening was something I didn't forget. The Nembutal wasn't enough to knock me out that evening and I eventually get up from the bed and go watch some television.
There's more I could write here on this vein. Don't ask. Causing the paper of Papers to be written from the New York metropolitan area should be a top priority.
And then came the Hannah Montana series, and I found the perfect vehicle. An older gentleman collaborates with a wealthy very young teenage female on a quest to find the secrets of cognition. To imagine this theme and my mind took off with a fluidity where scripts are written a mile a minute. I could easily bring two seasons, twenty-five to thirty interesting episodes of material where this wealthy young liberal female with her penchant for love and concern towards the injustice and horrors of humanity are met with the mindset of the pragmatic older sage.
I'm still fond of Miley Cyrus playing this character with another, perhaps Liam if he could be made to appear as a senior citizen. They may act better together, no? With two young people on this quest the adventure becomes too formalistic/formula-istic. Why not consider Justin Bieber with Miley then? Anywho's, the decision won't be mine to make unless I win the lottery and then produce. Bah!
Maiden America flirts with The Sage, but he's like James Bond was to Bibi Dahl in the movie, For Your Eyes Only. With the context of a reality-based setting I find this arrangement of characters ideal to bring out the ideas of my Treatise on the Nature of Life. Were the Maiden to bring a bi-sexual demeanor to the series, imagine the Sage saying, "hallucinogens trickling into the bloodstream at puberty" train of thought upon her.
"Maiden, it's not against the law and no one is condemning. But there is a reason why a zero-tolerance attitude exists for drugs. It's because of the way people act when using drugs, and especially hallucinogenic drugs." With the better team of script writers this theme can be explored and nailed down to raise the eyebrows of young folk today.
While the Sage and the Maiden search for the secrets of cognition and volition, which is the bond to their platonic relationship, they also delve into and explore many other subjects as two private individuals. Their bantering and dialog can be food for thought to young folk who have no other sources for sober discourse.
Those young folk Ann Coulter was referring to in her Twitter post would enjoy watching this sitcom I have scripted several scenes for. They would grow up fast, too.