Echo
Isobel Wren is leaving Boston, and it hurts. It hurts like hell, and I don’t know why. It’s not as if I would see her very often (or, for that matter, at all) if she stayed in the Boston area. And it’s not as if I will never get a chance to meet her because she’s moving away. (She’s going to be back to visit now and then.) But I feel like Echo, wasting away until I have nothing left but a voice, and my voice can only repeat what has been said by others. (If you listen closely, you’ll hear me say “Turning and turning in the widening gyre” or “Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita.”).
Maybe I have a fantasy that Isobel and I could become friends IRL and spend time together if she lived around here. That’s kind of stupid, even as a fantasy, because we’re really not into the same things. I’m not interested in comics (except Something*Positive, which I only started reading because her boyfriend draws it) and the rest of the mainstream nerdism that she pursues. She’s not (AFAIK) interested in recitations of Greek poetry and that kind of nonsense, which is my own esoteric brand of nerdism. The interests we share (theology, for example) are intellectual interests that one can just as well discuss over the Internet. And of course, we’re both Internet junkies, which is a good reason not to spend time together. And we’re both interested in Isobel Wren...but I think my interest is stronger than hers.
Maybe I like the idea of having the golden calf here among us, rather than far away, where it’s more difficult to worship. Somewhat oddly, perhaps, Isobel became my idol just because I like her so much. I wanted to be friends, and I guess she sort of did too, but she’s very busy, and, as I said, we’re not into the same things. There’s something like reverse sublimation going on here. Instead of channeling sexual impulses into socially acceptable avenues, I’m channeling personal fondness and the desire for friendship into a sort of sexual idolatry. Isobel is a really sweet, and really interesting, person, and in some sort of ideal world I’d like to have a close friendship with her that had nothing to do with sex. But she’s a full-time glamour model with her own Web site, so her hours of leisure are rare, and her erotic pictures are plentiful.
I don’t know. When I was younger, I used to write poetry. I used to be able to say things that hadn’t already been said by others. But the goddess “Why Bother?” - truly the queen of the gods - has taken away that ability. With my Narcissus gone, I’d rather be rid of my flesh and bones as well.