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Archive for August 9th, 2012

Pagan Gauds

Posted by Dirck on 9 August, 2012

I have been spending a little time contemplating this week’s pens.  While it’s usually considered a good thing to examine one’s own motives from time to time, there is a side effect to the practice.  When considered too closely, they can take on strange and unreal aspects, not unlike the smooth cheek of a seventeen-year-old supermodel becoming a landscape of canyons and bizarre fungi when viewed through a microscope.

The initial assessment, the non-mutant, well-back-from-camera version is plain and convincing enough.  I had just concluded the repair bragged about on Tuesday, and was anxious to bring the new pen out where it could be seen.  What would make a good alternate?  There was the option of an extremely plain; an effort to balance the bling, as it were.  The direction I clearly went was a toe-to-toe sparkle-fest, in which lies a degree of consistency, perhaps even a theme for the week.

But then I put too much thinking into the matter.  What I come up with, egged on by a younger self’s dabbling in the esoteric, is this: I am engaged in a low-grade form of sympathetic magic.  In handling the accoutrements of the rich, I am urging riches to descend upon me.  This is also influenced, I suspect, by my going on about talking fish and baskets of bird-granted pelf in the Tuesday entry.  Now that it’s in my head, it’s got some weight to it, in much the same way as that elephant you weren’t thinking about a moment ago.  Is it African or Indian, and are you mildly or very upset that I’m playing stupid mind games with you?

It makes some sense for someone who looks frequently to online auctions as a source of both joy and income to start to take up some of the practices of a cargo cult.  I make the correct hand gestures, make a small sacrifice (via PayPal), and the Juju brings something delightful to my door in two to four weeks!  The thing I have yet to work out is whether it is sillier for someone who knows the scrutable aspect of the thing to allow cargo cult mentality to have room at his psychological table than it is for someone who was raised in a jungle into which the odd bullet-riddled C-47 has dropped.

Almost certainly.  And yet, it might work.  Lotteries get won on less grounded notions… and I’d hate to think I’d struggled into these cuff-links this morning for no reason.

Today’s Golden Idol (gosh, I am glad I’m not of an Abrahamic faith): Sheaffer Triumph TM
Today’s Mysterious Brew: Mont Blanc Racing Green

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