Tranziltor Park: Introduction (1/7)

copyright (c) JMD, 2006

Oh, the many moments we spend trying to alleviate the subtlest -- but not least painful -- of all diseases: boredom. Here is an affliction which no modern doctor may cure, which no contemporary illumination may banish. Where does this dull gray germ of neutral negation come from? Possibly, and I do say this with utmost apprehension, from the very star that is its complete opposite: excitement. And the monstrous, golden machine that churns out the greatest quantities of this attention consuming excitement is none other than that which we cling to as most precious: entertainment.

Now there is an infinite difference in preference between each human as to what, in their discriminate eye, is deemed entertainment. Boredom is also loosely defined amongst the masses, but one thing that is certain to be universal among all 6 billion of them is the constant fluctuation between these two amorous creatures. (And yes, boredom is amorous, it is just that particular contender of affections of whom we cannot stand to be serenaded by, and who, quite fiercely, refuses with horrific tenacity to let us escape its repulsive cooing.)

I find myself enthralled by the one creature, raptly enfolded by its brilliance. But once this shiny one turns its glittering face, its beguiling dance is replaced by the awkward gyrations of its ugly twin. It seems that one child has been blessed beyond measure, both in outward respects and in the inward skills it possesses, and the other has been piteously cursed and given all of those qualities which cause those around it to despise and...well, yes, even hate. Oh, what to do?

Any remedial action to disbar boredom of its unwanted stay in the limelight results in the immediate return of entertainment. And, alas, here is the problem. For entertainment, by consequence of its very nature, exists only as a temporal ghost, conjured into existence to charm away its most hideous sibling. Thusly, entertainment’s enticing, effervescent eyes cannot remain indefinitely in front of ours – she is ever disappearing behind the oft jealous machinations of brother boredom. Furthermore, boredom is a blatant thief! To aggravate us almost beyond human capacity, any flick of the hair or turn of the head that is exhibited by the blessed one once too many times is rudely adopted by the cursed one, and the former is rendered powerless to ever delight us again with what used to be one of her finer essences. Because of this, boredom’s arsenal of monotonous self-appropriation widens dreadfully in scope and magnitude.

It is safe to say that boredom existed first. Where this disease originated from – I highly doubt it was in the depths of Africa, born in the fires of jungle heat as some have suggested – is decidedly unknown. Theories have arisen amongst the more learned of our society; in the colleges and in the great stone universities where brother boredom finds much solace in decaying books, creaking 19th century chairs, and ever-crumbling, bald figureheads. But these theories themselves have the defective tendency of being hatched out of boredom’s own basket, and as such are extremely difficult to follow and hard to endure. To explicate, here is one hypothetical question posed by an itinerant professor concerning derivation: “Could it be that Eve was led to bite the forbidden fruit -- not merely out of temptation -- but out of boredom?” In other words, was Eve bored with Adam and decided to try out an apple instead? A little humorous, perhaps, but not exactly gripping material.

Following this frustrating vein, allow me to take you out of the awful, disconcerting orchestrations of boredom for just a few moments (overall duration, of course, depends upon the speed by which you read) and present to you a particular kind of ancient entertainment perfected long ago as a very effective weapon against this diresome disease of ours. It is known simply, and elegantly, as “the story”.

copyright (c) JMD, 2006