I went to my friends house and played with her kids today. (Scarlett and Violett, can you tell my friend is an artist too?)
Anyway Scarlett had not one, not two, not three but WELL OVER FORTY 'My Little Ponies'. I stopped counting at 43, they were moving too fast.
And they were *beautiful*. The colours, the sparkles, the compositions...these hideous little ponies were GORGEOUS. And it gets better, they all have names like 'Wind Wisp' or 'Wandering Flower' or some such. I was...enthralled with the concept. Ecstatic with the fact that if I could find amazement in glitzy cheap plastic so could every child that owns one.
I find of late that everything that is unreal is becoming more and more real. Childrens toys start to move of their own accord, the sun laughs when she thinks nobody is looking, the sky is laden with colours that literally drip. There are creatures I've never heard of or seen before in the corner of my vision.
It's like the world around me is becoming a new world. Or a new art, a moving image, a painting. I liken it most to the movie 'What Dreams May Come' where everything is....the same. The same as it is becoming to be.
But what is it that unleashed my imagination? Not at 5 but at 26? When did the world *truly* become what I wanted it to be and nothing more? Was it like this when I was a child? I can't remember. But I imagine this is how the children see the world.
Actually to be honest it reminds me of a passage I read recently:
"Greek and Roman mythology is quite generallly supposed to show us the way the human race thought and felt untold ages ago. Through it, according to this view, we can retrace the path from civilized man who lives so far from nature, to man who lived in close companionship with nature; and the real interest of the myths is that they lead us back to a time when the world was young and people had a connection with the earth, with trees and seas and flowers and hills, unlike anything we ourselves can feel. When the stories were being shaped, we are given to understand, little distinction has as yet been made between the real and the unreal. The imagination was vividly alive and not checked by reason, so that anyone in the woods might see through the trees a fleeing nymph, or bending over a clear pool to drink, behold in the depths a naiad's face."
That's where I am...in *there* somewhere, between real and unreal.
Have I blathered enough? Here is a topic change.
I *also* watched Barney with Scarlett. And FABULOUS. Fabulous. YOU KNOW WHAT BARNEY SINGS THE TO THE TUNE OF 'if you're happy and you know it?'
Awwww, go on.
Barney sings 'If you're angry and you know it pound some clay'
I shit you not.
A sign of the times, no?
A sign of *their* times.
I find myself timeless and writing about Gods.