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things Sgrio makes me do
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This next thing is the fault of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sgrio and her Biblical Studies homework.
Basically it poses the interpretation that angels are not messengers, but messages. Obedience to God is a moot point, because an email or a letter can't be obedient to you. They don't have the faculties to BE obedient, they just ARE. My knee-jerk reaction is of course to ask, "What if Castiel was just a message?" So I wrote
and then I wrote this next thing.
I'm not sure what this next thing is. It's Castiel meta, but also maybe sort of a fic, maybe. It is... an experiment? 'Cos someone, SGRIO, was like, "Hey, why don't you fap about religion and language in context of Supernatural?" and I can't say no to that. What is it with you, SPN, making me write 1st person POV, past tense, and now whatever this is idek. I kind of wanted to reference more episodes, but 500 words of this is probably more than enough for now.
So yeah, what if Castiel were words? Spoilers through 4x22, and maybe 5x02. Happy start of Lent, folks. ETA: And now there is a sequel -- unnamed.
untitled
Castiel, Dean, & God
i.
Castiel: just a message. it was God's words that wrote him out, God who punctuated him. Castiel was synecdoche, part of a whole, and he was metonymy, a shadow, but he spirits Dean out of Heaven's green room and becomes caesura, from the Latin caedere meaning 'to cut'.
so what does that mean to be JUST a message, because maybe messages aren't JUST messages, words aren't JUST words, because Castiel is God's words, in spite and because of them. people the world over insist that words can change the world, that stories can foment revolution, and maybe Castiel is beginning to understand why, can see beyond his own pentameter to recognize the irregular cadences of his Father's beloveds.
Dean says, Now shake them around a little.
Shake what?
Songs are what happens when you make words move, says Dean. So move.
far from Heaven, you need new hymns.
ii.
it would change everything, but perhaps it wouldn't be so different. it would become:
this is a story about words, about how they can save you but sometimes they, too, need saving, because if words would walk alongside demons to find you in the fire, you can sit on a park bench on some crisp november morning and listen to a message starting to wear thin. a tidy script, evenly-spaced -- that's what you saw at first -- and when you tried to tear it, it wouldn't tear. when you tried to burn it, it wouldn't burn. that was then, but this is now: you see the creases where the paper had been folded into three parts, reopened to be reread, refolded to be placed back inside the pocket.
do you believe, it asks, that something written is always meant to be read?
but you know that sometimes words are most useful when they are hidden, and you don't know how to explain this to those who need to ask. if words exist without paper and ink, then promises can exist without words, which in the end are only vessels after all.
are you a message or are you its meaning?
and then the familiar sound of rustling parchment and it is gone, leaving you breathless as only a loss of words can.
iii.
if in the beginning was the word and the word was with God, then the word was with you too, and it is with us all still. the word was God, seeping into the world like spilled ink across blank pages so get a load of this divine rorschach, friends: what do you see and what does that tell you about yourself? you are the graffiti smudged by last month's rains; you are initials carved into wet cement; you are a love letter that has been reread a hundred times.
i think every creator must dream that one day their creations will walk off the page and comfort them. God will recognize Castiel by his run-on sentences cut through with ellipses, such unwieldy paragraphs, and when Castiel says, "I have found you," God will bow His head and weep with relief.
This next thing is the fault of
sgrio and her Biblical Studies homework.Basically it poses the interpretation that angels are not messengers, but messages. Obedience to God is a moot point, because an email or a letter can't be obedient to you. They don't have the faculties to BE obedient, they just ARE. My knee-jerk reaction is of course to ask, "What if Castiel was just a message?" So I wrote
"Castiel did WHAT?" Michael rages. Then he sulks. "He's never been the most legible letter in the mailbag."
"He is but spam," Zachariah agrees.
"Always offering to enlarge my penis," Michael mutters. "I don't even have a penis on this plane!"
and then I wrote this next thing.
I'm not sure what this next thing is. It's Castiel meta, but also maybe sort of a fic, maybe. It is... an experiment? 'Cos someone, SGRIO, was like, "Hey, why don't you fap about religion and language in context of Supernatural?" and I can't say no to that. What is it with you, SPN, making me write 1st person POV, past tense, and now whatever this is idek. I kind of wanted to reference more episodes, but 500 words of this is probably more than enough for now.
So yeah, what if Castiel were words? Spoilers through 4x22, and maybe 5x02. Happy start of Lent, folks. ETA: And now there is a sequel -- unnamed.
untitled
Castiel, Dean, & God
i.
Castiel: just a message. it was God's words that wrote him out, God who punctuated him. Castiel was synecdoche, part of a whole, and he was metonymy, a shadow, but he spirits Dean out of Heaven's green room and becomes caesura, from the Latin caedere meaning 'to cut'.
so what does that mean to be JUST a message, because maybe messages aren't JUST messages, words aren't JUST words, because Castiel is God's words, in spite and because of them. people the world over insist that words can change the world, that stories can foment revolution, and maybe Castiel is beginning to understand why, can see beyond his own pentameter to recognize the irregular cadences of his Father's beloveds.
Dean says, Now shake them around a little.
Shake what?
Songs are what happens when you make words move, says Dean. So move.
far from Heaven, you need new hymns.
ii.
it would change everything, but perhaps it wouldn't be so different. it would become:
this is a story about words, about how they can save you but sometimes they, too, need saving, because if words would walk alongside demons to find you in the fire, you can sit on a park bench on some crisp november morning and listen to a message starting to wear thin. a tidy script, evenly-spaced -- that's what you saw at first -- and when you tried to tear it, it wouldn't tear. when you tried to burn it, it wouldn't burn. that was then, but this is now: you see the creases where the paper had been folded into three parts, reopened to be reread, refolded to be placed back inside the pocket.
do you believe, it asks, that something written is always meant to be read?
but you know that sometimes words are most useful when they are hidden, and you don't know how to explain this to those who need to ask. if words exist without paper and ink, then promises can exist without words, which in the end are only vessels after all.
are you a message or are you its meaning?
and then the familiar sound of rustling parchment and it is gone, leaving you breathless as only a loss of words can.
iii.
if in the beginning was the word and the word was with God, then the word was with you too, and it is with us all still. the word was God, seeping into the world like spilled ink across blank pages so get a load of this divine rorschach, friends: what do you see and what does that tell you about yourself? you are the graffiti smudged by last month's rains; you are initials carved into wet cement; you are a love letter that has been reread a hundred times.
i think every creator must dream that one day their creations will walk off the page and comfort them. God will recognize Castiel by his run-on sentences cut through with ellipses, such unwieldy paragraphs, and when Castiel says, "I have found you," God will bow His head and weep with relief.
no subject
I love this piece. I love it for a lot of reasons, the first being that Castiel is a message. At least at first. He has no initial attachment to his form (this is a vessel...you're possessing some poor schmuck?). He is nothing but what he has been sent to deliver. When he becomes too close to his charge (you), he's demoted. No longer allowed to carry the message. No longer trusted as the Word, from metonymy to mute.
But then, as caesura, as the medial pauses in heroic verse, as the breath between stresses, he finds his melody, and makes words move, and makes new hymns. He sings his own songs (likely not in dactylic hexameter, though who knows, he probably speaks ancient Greek :P). With Dean, who hides within and behind music (Agents Page and Plant etc., and my personal favorite, Bachman and Turner), and who knows a little something about making things move, the songs of the open road.
So Castiel moves (moves his words, sings) from message to meaning to message and meaning. To a message aware of it[him]self. (Side note, since I've been wondering: does Castiel think of himself as male? Probably not. God's child. Anyway.) Or perhaps a message half-inscrutable even to itself, studied and argued and translated a hundred ways (Castiel as Nowell Codex, hehe). Sitting with a man who uses words as weapons, as tools, as tests, who reads the same story over and over (Dad died for me, I died for Sam), and finds new meaning each time. So he understands: sometimes Castiel needs to be re-transcribed, the broken bits filled with conjecture and footnotes, little works of attention and love.
That attention and love that started with God, but ended with his words, spun out and patched and bruised and beaten and returning ever to him.
Anyone, really, would weep.
--
Speaking of weeping, I am so sorry for this whole business, and thus give you the
tl;dr: that was awesome and thinky and beautiful. I've read it fifteen or twenty times and it doesn't get old. Keep fapping!
no subject
Cas is totally robot. If Supernatural were a scifi show, Cas would be the android who is learning to be a real boy. In that sense, and in the sense of his fic, Cas is nothing but a function, a tool to function. So maybe there is the question I am looking for. What happens when you can't use a hammer as a hammer?
knows a little something about making things move, the songs of the open road.
A+ I didn't even think of that, hahaha. Awesome.
Castiel as codex! There is another fic unto itself. I dunno, I have a soft spot for creator/creation stories, yanno? I was commentficcing that (http://lassiterfics.livejournal.com/137408.html?thread=2618304#t2618304), I might spin this out into something more full-length. Like, initially freedom is a sad and terrifying and lonely thing especially for a creature like Castiel. At first it just feels like abandonment.
sometimes Castiel needs to be re-transcribed, the broken bits filled with conjecture and footnotes, little works of attention and love.
That attention and love that started with God, but ended with his words, spun out and patched and bruised and beaten and returning ever to him.
Anyone, really, would weep.
<333333333 I looooooooooooove yooooooouuuuuuuuu.
Thank you very much for the magnificence of your comment.
no subject
Message without the message. Like an empty bottle, set adrift by someone paperless, hoping his cry will be sifted from the bottles tossed overboard by careless cruise passengers, knowing it won't. Unless it is. Maybe not so much killing the messenger as making him unable to deliver the message. (God's voicemail is full! Or, The voice says I'm almost out of minutes. :P)
As regards to centers holding or not, this show does seem to be heading towards a rather Yeatsish apocalypse: the best lack all conviction, while the worst/are full of passionate intensity. Oh!, and the falcon cannot hear the falconer. Because their orders aren't coming from God. If the last episode of this season is called "Christ Rising," I will laugh.
Cas would be the android. Defying God's laws (humans:robots::God:angels?), or subverting them, maybe. Obeying the intent but not the letter. Maybe he hasn't realized that he's a hammer with one of those removable handles with the screwdriver set and a flashlight inside. (Or maybe he's a secret spy hammer with a hidden recording device!) I really need that poor kid to find his dad already.
You should totally keep on this, if it's still with you. I'm excited to see where you go with it.
P.S. God-as-Pygmalion is awesome. He sculpted the world, and fell in love with it, and it turned out to be a boozing, passive-aggressive cheat with abandonment issues. But it's full of such beauty that he can't leave, so he just hides, and watches. Cas-the-first-draft doesn't flow quite right. He has an alarming number of dangling modifiers and sentence fragments, but he's run spellcheck a couple of times and learned not to trust the automatic grammar correction, and God thinks maybe it might be okay to give it another shot. Maybe. Soon.
no subject
Yeah, I've been wondering about where the Apocalypse is going on the show, 'cos the disasters have thus far been rather localized and easily contained. I was sort of expecting international news coverage about rivers of blood and the moon cleft in twain or whatnot. And I dunno, an army of zombies wreaking havoc! So far it's been nothing the Winchesters can't handle with some salt rounds and man-pain.
What do you mean by that analogy? If robots are the human-like tools of humans, then angels are the God-like tools of God? Or hmm, that robots and angels are the tools AND reflections of humans and God. The Galateas. But possibly, God created angels to be reflections first, whereas humans created robots to be tools first. Then angels became more tool-like as robots became more human-like. Haha, Cas is a SWISS ARMY KNIFE, or possibly one of those Cold War spy capsules that people hid up their butts. Which is all sorts of, haha, I don't even know.
I am actuallyyyyyy being consumed by the fic idea wherein Castiel finds God already. As is becoming a habit I will Home Sue the Philippines into it, and God's gonna be in Manila. There are these little scenes that are tugging at my mind already, thanks to these discussions with you and Smilla. The amulet burning Cas's skin, Cas searching desperately through the Greenhills mall, and God is, I dunno, a diminutive Filipino man who sells pirated DVDs or is a fortune-teller, but is maybe some sort of artist (charcoal sketches?) in His spare time because he can't let go of the creating thing. And when Cas asks him what He's doing here, God says well, you know how creators want to step into their creation, to disappear into the world they have made? God says, I can actually do that. I see that you are tired, hijo, but so am I, so am I.
IT'S LIKE, God giving Himself over to imperfection. Maybe He envies His creations a little bit. (Maybe He feels a special affinity with that Escher drawing of hands drawing themselves.) And maybe there's a bit where God says Let me sketch your portrait, hijo, let me have you for my memories in this life. But Castiel thinks of first drafts and finalizations, and he says no, his voice breaking along with his heart. He can't bear the thought of God recreating him, of the implication that Castiel needs to be recorded into a second draft, the implication that God needs a second chance. The implication that Castiel is somehow able of giving Him this second chance. God shouldn't need, shouldn't want a second chance. Castiel shouldn't be capable of giving Him one. Castiel feels more human than angel suddenly, and thus sees a human standing before him, not the Creator, just a man with sad eyes and skinny arms. The amulet burns and burns but it feels like a lie.
And Castiel says, So I am, we are alone, now.
God replies, I will always love you.
But it is perhaps a human love of which He speaks, and as Castiel is learning, love in human terms can be (is usually) a lonely, gutting thing.
It all kind of reminds me of this Edmond Jabes quote:
"He who pretends to give all deprives us of our future. Giving means opening out, means forging our tomorrows from the best in us gathered for others. God hampers universal brotherhood. He forbids man to imagine kindness.
But for those who are in love with the absolute, obsessed by eternity, turning to God to adore or destroy Him means reaching the depth of human anguish. For we are desperately driven to claim responsibility for the death of God in order to love Him more than ourselves, against ourselves.
A great love carries within it a mourning for love."
Your post-script is <3.
no subject
Isn't it annoying how easy it is to pick off Horsemen? These dudes are harbingers of DOOM. And all it takes is a little demon blood or hacking off a finger to shuffle them off? Really? I assume Death is going to be hardier, but they should be terrifying, not Monsters of the Week. I've been more scared of haunted houses on this show. Also, I would pay money to have news coverage of a moon cleft in twain integrated into the plot. Seriously.
With that analogy, I'm coming from the idea that God and humans both create because they can. Not because there's any sort of great plan. This dude pulls light from the void, and looks at it, and thinks, Neat trick, that. The next day, he gets a little fancier and puts stuff in the light/void dynamic and thinks, Hey, that's pretty cool too. He keeps just adding and adding until everything's overrun. Then he sits back and watches, not because he has a plan, but because he's curious. Mostly, he just hangs out with a celestial bowl of popcorn, but sometimes he reaches down to tweak something. Think of it like Sims Universe, where you can let everything just go, but it's more fun to prompt your character to sleep with the neighbor.
Similarly, humans first create robots as sort of curiosities--because they can. They make them in their own image (we're talking sci-fi here, not reality) because they relish the idea of being creators and only have one other creator prototype to work from. They infuse them with personalities because it's really weird having something that looks like you but doesn't at least superficially behave like you (God, of course, has given humans the part of himself that is Creator and curious).
Anyway, where I was going with the analogy is that humans and God both create in their own image. And they create in their own image because they can. Creation isn't capital-D Destiny; it's frivolous. God can't figure out why everyone wants him to have this big plan, and humans can't figure out why everyone seems to think they should've seen Cylons coming.
That's the realization Cas would find devastating: there isn't a Plan. There never has been.
Was that coherent? I've been meaning to articulate this for a while, but haven't thought out a logical sequence for it yet. I'm pretty sure there are gaping holes.
In other news, I am already in love with your fic. I grew up a Navy brat, surrounded by people from the Philippines--our Forth of July cookouts consisted of pancit and lumpia and those sugar-coated fried pastry sticks that I can't remember the name for and various fried fruits and vegetables on sticks (I haven't ever gotten over the sweet potato). I've never been there, but it has this strange sort of adopted resonance. Basically, keep home-sue-ing.
I love the idea that God steps into his creation and doesn't do anything; he just sits there and hides. He has nothing. Castiel, for all his feelings of betrayal, has more to show for himself. He has friends, people who care about him and bring him into their circle. His love, while human, flawed, and lonely, is concrete in a way God's can never be. He expects to feel awe, but finds himself instead feeling pity. He understands that God is the only sentience totally without freedom. Trapped for eternity in a prison of his own making.
From there, I don't know. Is your Castiel angry? Or just sad? Or does he understand something new about himself, about the world, that allows him to carry on? I imagine it like that day when you're ten or so and realize that your parents are just regular people. Crushing, but somehow hopeful.
Which is all very serious talk, so I will follow it up with saying that I want to hug your brain. In a non-zombie way. And I have read your last couple of fics but not yet commented on them because I have been running around like a crazy person, but they are awesomesauce and I will get to them, promise.
um, this reply got out of hand.
THE UNIVERSE AS THE SIMS AND GOD AS A SIMS PLAYER is such a delightful conception of the cosmos, I cannot even! I can totally see it.
Then he sits back and watches, not because he has a plan, but because he's curious.
Have you read a book called 'Abandon' by Pico Iyer? This conversation is reminding me of that. "What if, let's say, God's abandonment is not that of an indifferent parent, but, rather, that of a composer, a creator, so carried away by the forces that race through Him that He forgets everything around Him and lets the story run away with Him? What, in other words, if the abandonment that God is guilty of is not that of desertion but, rather, of rapture, the neglectfulness of an artist who lets the work take over?" I posted a bunch of quotes from it here (http://lassiterfics.livejournal.com/101536.html#cutid1), and I would recommend this book to you, it sounds relevant to your interests. This is the characterization of God that I'm sort of going for in this Castiel fic, part deadbeat dad, part romantic, kind of nostalgic, itchy with wanderlust (and wonderlust?), but also "Smashed to the heart / Under the ribs / With a terrible love", as Carl Sandberg would say. Because God loves and loves, but He is not always loved back, or something like that, because who can love like God loves? No one. Is this worse for the Lover or the Beloved? That's not a hypothetical question. Maybe we really CAN'T know how much God loves us, maybe we just really really can't. God really is unique in all this world, and maybe that is his burden. He is the ONLY one. Because He is everything, He is become nothing. Because He is everywhere, He is nowhere.
God, of course, has given humans the part of himself that is Creator and curious
God can't figure out why everyone wants him to have this big plan
Hee! Oh, God. I wanna ruffle his hair and drink beers with him.
Speaking of robots and Escher, have you seen this (http://www.genetologisch-onderzoek.nl/wp-content/image_upload/cloned-hands.jpg)?
That's the realization Cas would find devastating: there isn't a Plan.
OMG YES! Wow, absolutely. OH CAS, I am verklempt for him all the time!
I didn't realize there were so many Filipinos in the Navy! Are you looking forward to 'The Pacific' HBO miniseries as much as I am? I am trying to picture these fried pastry sticks of which you speak. Is it like churros? Hey, have you tried halo-halo? Puto? Haha, man let's not get me blabbering about food when I'm already blabbering about god.
It's not so much that God has nothing in the fic. He has a lot of things, on account of being God, but he's become disaffected maybe? He's become restless, maybe a little burned out, and, I dunno, I'm kind of getting a 'mental health retreat' vibe from it, except he's maybe thinking of retreating permanently. Checking out, retiring. God just wants a little peace, and He thinks He's found some here, with his crappy rented room and his sketching and his modest stall at Greenhills, anonymity in a sea of people. For lunch he always get the same thing -- chicken adobo and a Coke -- and it is a comforting routine. The manang behind the counter knows Him and gives Him extra sauce and always asks how He's doing, then tells Him how her children are doing. And anyway, His creations seem to be doing fine on their own.
PART 2, because I exceeded the character limit!
And God would retort: no. They are acting of their own volition, they hurt, they care, they fuck up, they hate, they love, they live and live. They are raging against the dying of the light, and thus are exactly as they should be, no matter what.
My Castiel is sad. Maybe he will be angry sometime after the fic is over, but for now he is just sad and bewildered and confused. This fic is EXACTLY like realizing your parents are regular people, that is EXACTLY it. Well, except maybe more theological, but HAHA, the show is totally making the theological about family anyway, so it can work. The family that prays together, yanno.
I think the first line of this fic is gonna be, "The amulet starts to burn somewhere over the Sulu Sea." I have this image of Cas just hovering in the air all caught up in the amulet that he doesn't notice the jet plane until it's a little too late. I mean, then Cas zooms off towards Manila of course, but the pilot is all, "...Did I just see what I thought saw?"
OH AND HERE IS ANOTHER SCENE. So, they're in God's rented room at the boarding house (He closed up shop early to talk with Cas, I guess), and now the visit is over and Cas is about to leave. But he hesitates, and he thinks maybe he shouldn't ask this question, but maybe now that he's here he can't help himself, and he is both fearful and hopeful when he asks, falters, asks, "Father... may I see You?"
And God knows that Castiel means see Him in His true form, and then there's a MOMENT, yanno. God's expression softens and Castiel can't tell if it's love or pity or something else, and God asks, "What about your vessel? For him to see me in my true form would damage--" but then Cas gets this panicked anguished expression on his face, and God takes pity on him and sighs, "I'll protect your vessel."
And so there, in this dingy room that smells of old food and anti-mosquito coils, God seeps out of the human form. Likewise, Castiel lets what is angelic of him expand beyond Jimmy Novak's body, expanding in ways and directions humans can't even conceive, but as boggling as the angelic may be to a human, the godly is infinitely moreso to an angel, to everyone, everything. In his true form, Castiel is dwarfed before God and feels the love ripped out of him and is relieved for it, is joyful, is reverent, is home. He loves his Father, has always loved Him, and here He is, here is the consummation of an eternity of the joyful longing we call faith, tucked away in the second-floor room of a modest boarding house with peeling paint and rusted gates.
My son, God says, and His voice is the light in which empires rise and fall.
Castiel falls into his Father's embrace and sobs adonai, adonai, sobs allah akbar. Castiel cries alleluia to the high heavens as his Father holds him close and calls him beloved in a thousand, thousand languages.
(In the room next door, Rdentor Sison feels the ache in his back subside and the methamphetamine sadness in his heart dissipate. Downstairs, Manuel Donato pauses in the middle of sweeping and remembers his wife, so young and beautiful and far away in the south of the country, and he thinks he should call her and remind her that he loves her, that he breathes her with every beat of his heart. Out in the garden, Elena Duterte raises her head and thinks today will be the day she finally stops drinking.
There is an invisible golden light that unfurls from this house, spreading through Manila, flowing through the streets like blood in arteries. It settles somewhere deep and soft inside the city's inhabitants, and chases the darkness away. Manila is a city of 20 million people, 20 million dreams cramped together and each on top of the other, barely scraping by in Tondo, extravagantly content in Fort Bonifacio, cheerfully amoral in Malate, overworked and smiling stiffly in Ortigas. For every dream, there are at least two heartbreaks, but for that day, that one day, in the space it takes for a father to love his son, all is right with the world.)
Re: PART 2, because I exceeded the character limit!
Anyway. I like the idea of multiple parallel pantheons as well; it's something I've been playing with in my latest fic. (A subplot involves Cas searching for God, actually, and hitting up Babylon and Luxor for clues.) More particularly, I like the idea of multiple pantheons treated with respect, not just as places to find new villains. I mean, how cool would it be to have Xué show up and be like, We've got some trouble down south, boys, and I'm not talking about those assholes still poking around after El Dorado. And they could go to Colombia and Dean could freak out about having to take a plane and Sam could speak Spanish (which he totally does in my head), and there would be a cursed emerald or maybe a salt mine involved, and someone would teach Dean how to play tejo, and something Deep would be revealed. It might be a little tricky to film South America in Vancouver, but hey, that's what set designers are for. Ahem.
That book looks fascinating. I'll pick up a copy on my library expedition this afternoon. I'm particularly interested in that characterization of God for a lot of reasons, some shallow (see me play in sandbox), and some more intellectually meaningful: if God created Man in His image--Man is Godlike--then why do we always assume that God is not to some degree man-like? That He can't have needs and desires and dreams? That way of thinking about love is also fascinating: humans love one-to-one (I love my boyfriend/wife/father/sister/cousin and he/she loves me) or in the abstract (I love playing volleyball; I love Steinbeck). But a god or God would have to love in a greater sense, would have to love both concretely and abstractly at once, and would have to love even those who arguably don't deserve it, who don't love Him back. Those He doesn't know, those whose hearts are closed to Him. We can't fathom that kind of love. We're not wired like that.
Out of the quotes you posted, I really latched on to this one: "The meanings never change, only the people who seek for them." With the part that comes before, he links the word "meaning" to the idea of "power," the idea that a society or a deity only has power as long as its meaning can be understood. Once you lose words and songs, rituals and "secret doors," you also forfeit your power. It's a concept I'm not sure I can get behind, though I see where he's coming from. I think I'd rather believe that meaning and power are related but not synonymous. Or that he's using the word "meaning" to describe the narrower concept of "knowledge," which brings up all sorts of issues regarding how people in power manipulate access to knowledge and interpretation of meaning to bolster their positions. I'll probably get the book and then end up writing a whole freaking essay on that paragraph.
Re: PART 2, because I exceeded the character limit!
Oh man, drinking beers with God. That would be amazing. I imagine him as a scotch ale kinda guy.
The Navy is full of Filipinos; I almost imagine it as a culture unto itself, drawing from its components and its innate hierarchical structure to create a unique group of people. I actually hadn't heard of that miniseries before you mentioned it, but HBO and I have a good relationship on account of Deadwood's unparalleled awesomeness, so I'll definitely take a look. As for the food, the stick things are like churros, though I remember them having a different name. Same principle, though. Halo-halo is amazing, mostly because it appeals to the part of me that loves a range of mixed tastes and textures and, of course, my sweet tooth. I've never had puto--I looked it up and they're a sort of steamed rice-flour cake/muffin? Do you have a recipe? (I bake once a week for the crew at the bar, but one of the girls just found out she's allergic to gluten, so I'm trying to find things she can eat.)
I am so in love with your God it hurts, seriously. (He quotes Dylan Thomas!) And He is the consummation of an eternity of the joyful longing we call faith, and that's perfect. Your writing is always so gorgeous and evocative that I have to sit with it for a moment before I even know how to respond. I can't wait to read the whole thing!
no subject
I like the idea of multiple pantheons treated with respect, not just as places to find new villains.
Thiiiiiis so much. If other pantheons make it to SPN, omg, I really really need SPN to NOT FUCK IT UP. I don't ask much from you, SPN! I know what you are. But please, show, please.
why do we always assume that God is not to some degree man-like?
Yes! I think this book helped to solidify a lot of what I'd been thinking about god and loving god, and what that love is like. I was coming out of Narnia fandom at the time, I believe, so god angst was at the forefront of my mind. The idea of loving god the way you would love a human being pushed something into place in my head, I'm not sure what. It's not that it answered questions, but the questions became that much more clearer and brighter. And maybe they are not questions about god after all, but questions about love and devotion.
Sam speaks some Spanish! I think it was in 'Fallen Idols', he had to talk to a housekeeper and was kind of crap at it. I feel like a dork for remembering such trivia. Man.
Have you read American Gods? Haha, sorry with these book recs, but "Once you lose words and songs, rituals and "secret doors," you also forfeit your power" is kind of what it is about.
I imagine him as a scotch ale kinda guy.
Yeah, something strong and simple, for sure, though there is a part of me that wishes he loves colorful fruity drinks and he makes a wibbly face when they forget the paper umbrella.
Wow, Filipino representation in the navy. I wonder how they come to be strongly represented then. That's interesting that you mention the hierarchy, because I find the Filipino social fabric is like this odd mix of Asian filial piety and Spanish machismo. And Catholic... Catholicness. I mean, that's a gross simplification of course. But yeah. Alas I have no recipe for puto :( . I heard good things about Deadwood. Isn't that the one that got weirdly canceled? I sometimes contemplate watching it, but don't want to be heartbroken at how there is no more episodes.
Aww, thanks dude! It really helps to have this back-and-forth here, I totally appreciate it. I look forward to writing it. Though right now I am totally being SIDETRACKED cowriting apocalypse fic with unoshot. It's got zombies! It's got vampires! It's got long walks on the beach. For real! Okay, not really. More like drinking tequila on a beach, which is totally Dean-speak for 'long walks on the beach' anyway! Also we just broke ten thousand words. God, what is SPN fandom doing to me.
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I'm always a little wary of this show's ability to tread carefully in areas that are socially volatile--like, say, killing off every woman/PoC ever--so I'd almost rather have them fight home-grown critters than appropriate religious structures without tact. However, because this show basically owns my soul at the moment, I'm willing to give it the benefit of the doubt and see where it goes.
And maybe they are not questions about god after all, but questions about love and devotion.
It's interesting you say that, because honestly, those are synonymous for me. My parents--I'm still unsure whether this was intentional--brought us up as agnostics, believing in the abstract idea of God as a force or a system rather than a being. In a lot of ways, the idea of "God" for me has always been "love" and "right" and "good intention." (Not always "truth," though, since we were taught also to measure the value of truth against the value of kindness and act accordingly.) And there are so many degrees of love! I love my best friend, my cat, my siblings, and my cast-iron skillet, even if sometimes I'd really like to smack the first three with the last. I love running (a physiological response), and reading (a psychological response), and the way the earth rumbles under your feet when you stand on an active volcano (a response motivated by something so huge and terrifying that it's humbling.) They're good questions to ask, I think, and I'm always glad when smart people ask them. Because then I get to read about it! I am not selfish at all.
Oh, American Gods was great. If you haven't, you should read Good Omens as well. It has an angel and a demon in it! And thought it is unrelated, if you haven't yet read it I think you would enjoy Norman Maclean: A River Runs Through It and/or Young Men and Fire. Both of them are just stunning, but the first is religion and philosophy and what it is to be human all tied up together in a great story. There's this one part where the narrator's brother says, "All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren't noticing which makes you see something that isn't even visible." It reminds me of some of the topics we've been dancing around here: how to talk about things that aren't physically there, but nevertheless have a very real effect on people's perceptions and actions.
though there is a part of me that wishes he loves colorful fruity drinks and he makes a wibbly face when they forget the paper umbrella.
I love that! God: I will have a blueberry pomegranate margarita please.
Cas: *frowns*
God: What?
Cas: ...Dean Winchester informs me that margaritas are for. Well. Please excuse the crudeness and understand I'm only quoting, but he claims they're for "pansy-ass tools who couldn't get laid at a whorehouse." Or women. Though in retrospect, the only time I had occasion to test this assertion, there was beer involved--not that, you know, I mean, I was there simply at Dean's request; I had planned to spend the evening in quiet prayer--
God: All is forgiven. As long as they don't forget the umbrella.
Deadwood is great. It was weirdly cancelled, so the last episode is sort of "huh" and unsatisfying, but honestly that's no reason to avoid it. It's one of those incredible shows where every single character is compelling and well-written, and everything that happens feels realistic and logical.
lol, I am hardcore looking forward to your post-apocalyptic collaboration as well, since you guys are both great to read and, y'know, it's post-apocalyptic. SPN fandom will suck you into a whirling vortex of awesome. Just so you know. You may abandon all ambitions of carrying on a real life. :)
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This is how I feel. Innocent until proven guilty! I mean, I already let it get away with a bunch of other things, like yeah, the weird women/race issues. Sometimes I feel I watch SPN to shop for tropes to write about in fic. It's a weird way to engage with media.
Ya dude, SPOILERS. The Norse and Hindu pantheons are gonna come into play. Baldur, Kali, and Ganesh have been cast. I am both superexcited and wary. I would be thrilled if all the pantheons band together to defeat Lucifer or whatever. It's like that scene from Prince Caspian, y'know. "Hinduism pledges its troops! Zoroastrianism pledges its troops! Shintoism pledges its troops!" Though if it comes to that, I guess it's the Winchesters gonna be heading that army, and We The Fandom might bust a nut quibbling over white man's burden and HAHAHA look at me anticipating wank. Let's not do that yet, self.
I was definitely raised to think of God as, like, a human with superpowers basically. Very anthropomorphized. I was wary of discussing religion with my parents, so I had to come across the conception of God as a 'how' rather than a 'what' on my own, helped along by certain books and movies, haha. I think what I'm learning is that how I think about god is largely related to how I engage with love and freedom, standards of which change as one grows up of course. So yeah, I started to think of god as this impartial force, as a description of how the world works, but now I'm coming around to anthropomorphizing him again.
I read Good Omens and absolutely love it. You are the second person to recommend "A River Runs Through It" to me! I guess I'll have to check that out.
All is forgiven. As long as they don't forget the umbrella.
HAHA OH GOD. What a goober. <3
We're in the home-stretch! We just hashed out how we're gonna approach the ending scenes, and now it's just getting to the doing of it. High five!
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If God is Pygmalion, does that make everything Galatea? An omnipresent desire, it almost chokes. Maybe this is why He left.