Why 2 Weeks and the American Peter Pan Intro.

This is broken into two parts. That can be made plain if you notice "and" in the title. The first part is how long it's been since I last wrote on here. To go into why it has been that long would take some time. Just kidding. My junk ain't that interesting. I've been watching soccer. That, and I'm not that clever. I mainly try to use this blog as a testament to my own cleverness, so when I'm dry I don't write. That's that.

Not entirely though. Cleverness is a hard thing to pin down. It can come in great sweeps, as it does for Dan; a resident of this page who has yet to do anything on it. It can come in small, mainly sexual, racial or crude remarks as it does for myself. It can also come in the form of obscure knowledge and acknowledgements, such as it is with Cole...who also hasn't written anything on here. Mine, I would argue, is the least interesting. It gets old if you're stuck in a van with me for severeal days. The other two forms force the brain to work overtime. They act as an invitation and a challenge all at once. You are, of course, invited to laugh at whatever is being said, but cleverness tends to work in volley's. Thus, you are expected to lob something back to the other person, much as one would in a tennis match, but without all the grunting, sweating, physical prowess, or physique. In that regard it's much easier.

You can't just make your mind work in a certain way though. You have to adapt. This is something that is more difficult than it is for some others. I can usually adapt somewhat easily; shaping my jokes around the intended fuck I want to laugh at the gems I'm laying at their feet. Sometimes it's harder though and that's when it gets tricky. Usually, if you're only somewhat able to adapt, this means you become the really weird guy. You say things that possibly go too far or are too creepy. Depending on the crowd you're with, this may still work out. They may mistake it for some kind of warped genius. If they do, run with it. No one else is gonna laugh at that stupid shit. Most people will just think you're creepy.

Now the New American Peter Pan is something my friend Dan came up with about a week ago that has kind of put me up against the ropes; chaffing and all. I should start by saying that I've always loved children's literature. The imagination, for me, is the most important thing a person has to offer, with integrity coming a close second. The imagination, and the way it's used in children's literature is so free and able to move about as it wants. It may be one of the few genres in literature where you can come up with anything you want; anything at all, and it's not frowned upon.

I guess I also like it because it's usually a reflection of sorts. See, most of these books are in some way tied into innocence--its preservation and its loss. This is usually attached to some kind of growth or decision that must be made; as it is in most other literature. I guess I find this interesting because it's something I'm constantly trying to make sense of myself. I guess you could say I'm also trying to make sense of it FOR myself. Growth and innocence are such contradictory terms. One is impossible to maintain when you have the other. That's the reason for The New American Peter Pan.

My friend Dan suggested that if you look at early twenty somethings that have gone straight from school into employment (mainly in the business world) you see that they look and act older than us; mid-to-late twenty somethings that have avoided that world, both with regret and joy. I cannot speak to the decisions these people make, enterting into the 9-to-5 world or whatever. That's their decision. My decision has been to make all my real decisions disappear. I don't face them. I don't want them. The thought of putting on a suit repulses me. Being in an office smells of exactly what I want to avoid; the growth of responsibility for the loss of imagination. When you look like everyone else, stuck in a small, grey space, how is it that you can maintain the things that make you singular? Maybe there's an answer that makes sense, but I haven't seen it and I refuse to risk any loss in order to find out. I guess that's where Peter Pan comes into it all. Dan has called me the Peter Pan of our group and refers to himself and several others as "Lost Boys." Honestly, I somewhat resent being called Peter Pan in the context for which he uses it, even though I'm plainly admitting now that it's true. No matter.

But, putting all the subtext and wishing and regretting aside, we have decided to make a book of essays. Essays that will embody our lives as "Lost Boys". This is what has put me up against a wall. How does one figure out the modern day Peter Pan? In the book, Peter Pan is a boy who not only is without responsibility, but who also doesn't have the faintest clue what responsibility means. This poses a problem. I can't imagine anyone in this world that hasn't been through a bootcamp of responsibility. We are all taught the rules of living and what is expected of us. We all have certain paths set before us, all of them leading towards responsibility of one kind of another. Yes, you can ignore these options, but if you do, you had better be extraordinarily talented or you're going to be living paycheck to paycheck for the rest of your life.

So, is Peter Pan in 2006 a boy, still without a drop of knowledge about the world that surrounds him? Is he purposefully ignorant or them; moving parallel to them, but never crossing into it? Or is Peter Pan, now, a boy who is aware of the world around him; both acknowledging its usefulness while also ignoring its rewards as a price to high to pay? I'd like to think it's the latter, but I'm not sure if Peter Pan, as a concept or a character, could survive that way. Before I can write any stories I have to know about Peter Pan now. I have to define him and give him context. This is proving to be hard.

All inquiries or comments on this would be most helpful.