Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Five - A Life Of Illusion: Prologue

Prologue

There is a cultural divide that places American cinema in a campy genre that seem to stagnate with hero worship, phallic challenges of manhood, and at least ten explosions for every exposed pair of breasts. In contrast, I tend to lean towards Japanese Samurai movies which instead of concentrating on the awesomeness of the lead role it tend to expose humanity in greatness and then to bring an end to the such, ensuring it immortality rather than fan boys arguing if their octogenarian is great or super great. Leaning towards immortality rather than the use of well worn masks that make grown men the target of pity, I'd rather face the end leaving some question to the imagination rather than destroy the mystery of the moment.

Understanding that I usually favor a third person view rather than anything personal in exhibiting my personal experiences, I'm going to attempt to keep this exchange palpable and tangible. I will restrain from hiding behind the comfort of language and the assumption that many refuse to look up the meaning of a multi-syllable word or the hidden meaning behind a simplistic thought. They are my defense mechanism as well as my means to paint an image that some moments seem to be beyond my regular grasp. So in the spirit of Glasnost as a true child of the 80's would know, I will attempt to sit still and find comfort in not using the amazing skill of hiding.

In attempting to end this, I wanted to find the correct ending theme since I've so confidently strode forward into a simple plot use that offered an anchor for some to follow. Using lyrics to convey deeper meaning seems to have replaced the eternal words of great poets and playwrights. I weep for the new generation who modern bards simply repeat the same lyric or group efforts where noise and doctored sound to mask guttural grunts. And yet, using this method of conveyance I could not find the ending that I sought so much while writing the others. How can I simply end an ongoing process that may bring change a week later? To bring solitude to an ensuing journey would only expose myself to the arrogance of such a thought.

And so, I decided to use the play of role in which the world's stage was built on. Perhaps the rising of another life, I can not help to borrow on the use of illusions to masquerade our true motives. I know, I ramble on. And letting go always seems the hardest near the end. And with this, onwards to my story.