Sunday, May 17, 2009
Better drive a Merk than take one
"There is nothing worse than an idle hour, with no occupation offering. People who have many such hours are simply animals waiting docilely for death. We all come to that state soon or late. It is the curse of senility."
--H. L. Mencken
It was late in life that even the great H. L. Mencken, sage of Baltimore, himself became senile, his association centres gone (ein gutes beer?) and his cigar put out forever.
I am not Mencken (but would I not love to have been!) and sadly that is the way it seems to go in my senior apartment complex.
People seemed to have worked all their lives, housewives, factory hands, nurses, sales ladies--and then the wham. Senility. Yes, yes, alzheimers and all that, but it seems the majority of seniors have spent their lives in an almost robotic dream state, work, sleep, eat excrete, absentmindedly fornicate, raise children, turn senile and die, never having given themselves a second thought.
Perhaps just as well, as those of us who had been too sentient end up with something like ADD, or some other euphemism for stupid kid.
Second childhood. for some. Heh. Some call it creative writing.
But writing is thinking. Holds the alzhemer's down, like smoking snogging, and drinking, but the doctors don't want to tell you that. Make them into drug-addled basket cases, there is health for you.
The Garden of Eden foiled. The pill before the grape. The caduceus in the garden, the snake long ago slithered off in disgust.
In the year of our lord (AMA), those of us too weak to work and too strong to die have this last recourse: Create, think. Write or die.
And make no sawbones about it.
A successful writer is worth any number of M.D.'s.
They try to kill us with bad doctoring, but they know it is still we who write their obits.
Better drive a Merk than take one.