Marionette has a particularly different kind of experience.
When we die, we experience the same thing that we might expect we
experienced before we lived: Pure and utter nothingness. There is a
finite time of nothingness before we are something, and then an infinite
blackness of nothingness after we are not. I do not know, nor can I
reflect on what I was before there ever was a me. Nor can I reflect on
what I am after I have been. That something which I am is that same
something that identifies things as such.
Marionette is an
exception. She is different. Marionette, like you and I, was made in the
image and likeness of her creator. Her purpose and existence is only
ever competent when she is submissive, and her will is not her own. And
like you and I, Marionette will become tangled up, and cannot untangle
on her own. However, unlike you and I, Marionette only is whenever
someone who is, is letting her be. When she is put down, she no longer
is anymore. And unlike you and I, she is, once again, whenever she is
picked up. She, unlike us, is, after she has not been. Her lives and
deaths consist of being, punctuated by dark periods of not being. In a
sense, she is the only one who is, who has not been, and she is the only
one who cannot say what it is to not have been, because what she says
doesn't come from what she is, but rather from who is letting her be.
Marionette will always be, from time to time, until there is no one else for her to be.
She's here, she's there, she's everywhere she cares to be. Marionette is always there for you. No strings attached.
Two comments on the literature itself, and then some philosophy, why not?
Did you perhaps consider the use of a comma rather then a full stop at the end of your opening paragraph, to maintain the tension 'till the resolution kicks in with "Except for marionette", else you have two rather sedate statements one after another, and rather weighty ones, at that.
Furthermore.. your use of the word 'punctuated'- "punctuated by dark voids of not being"- I've read some of your other writing, and such a slip into the prosaic in the middle of a metaphysical questioning session is hardly justified at your standard, I would certainly suggest that you rethink that particular word, at least.
Having said that, as a work of literature, I thoroughly enjoyed it; your claims are gossamer-fine, and fall like silk into a philosophical whole, and despite myself, Marionette, the character-who-is-not, tugs at my critic's heart. Well written indeed, but for..
Philosophy! Or, casuistry, rather. To address you for a moment as a virile philosopher, I would surely question whether you aren't working here behind your time. Human beings have asked questions of metaphysics, of 'being and nothingness', for all recorded history, and I would say to you that for all their self-defining answers, it has come to naught but science, and a science that attacks your very God, no doubt. You clearly have the mind to delve beyond those surface questions- So do so! I say deeper, sir, for if the poets miss the real problems near at hand, then God forbid;
What hope for the rest of us!
The concept of being and not being tangles the mind. Still, to anchor the concept to a physical object, grounds the idea, and give it weight enough to untangle perceptions. Well done, well done indeed.
That's a very interesting concept. It was a fairly simple idea expressed in a way that was complicated enough to warrent a second reading, and I commend you on that. The idea as simple as it was, was also a thought provoking one, so a few more points in my book for that. Overall I think its a great little peice, I look forward to seeing if your other writing is as intriguing
For puppets we too can be; strung along till sleep doth heed. Who knows what dreams we see. Maybe "Marionette," lives in our visions of relativity. This is a great write; it flows well and keeps the mind's eye at a focus.
I did very much enjoy. I read it numerous times because the way you wrote this is so intriguing. At first I thought of Marionette as a human, much like you and I. But the second time I read I started to believe that she is more of a doll, for many reasons, "because she can only say what it is that we say." Either way, living or non-living this story compels the reader to think, to ponder your words. And I will be thinking of this long after I finish this comment. Brilliant write, Doppelganger.
Nah, I live everytime someone farts in church, gets a handy at work or throws pennies off high bridges.
Ho Ho
The concept is interesting enough. The life and relife of a puppet. We're like little gods then, creating something in our likeness, like a picture, or poem.
And when the biog hammer falls, we're all s**t out of luck