In Pursuit Of Pabulum (2) The apparent mitigating length and sentiment of the sally took Vincent by surprise and bated his escalating fervour. Could it be that once again a brutal tirade of relentless information was warding off a potential match with all the intimidation of a guillotine hanging overhead. He rallied at the thought and, as the cunning angler gives slack to a tight line so as to tire the fish thereby averting breakage, gave the illusion of resuming an inferior position. > Admittedly I am but a juvenile in the domain of fictional literature and must complement you on your powers of articulation. My interest was raised a couple of years ago when my insatiable technical thirst was not only quenched but surfeited. The jury is still out on whether this event in my life was my making or breaking. At this stage I would describe my writing abilities as reactive as opposed to innovative but can feel them maturing with each missive sent. Often I find myself forced to use naive language to express complex ideals much to my own detriment. Like yourself, I am an author of sorts, albeit of a technical rather than fictional persuasion, and whenever a fleeting fancy to write a novel graces my mind, the likes of Hugo, Doestoevsky and Wilde act as good reference by which to evaluate my meagre capabilities and thereby return me to my rightful place. Unfortunately I must now leave your presence for the evening as my eyelids grow weary as do the speed of my thoughts. Attack may be the best form of defence and flattery is most certainly the best form of attack. Now it was time to recall the troops from battle and reassess the battle-plan subject to a full assessment of casualties incurred. What had begun as a good humoured repartee had clearly escalated into full scale war. >> my appetite has only just become whet but perhaps it is best that we operate according to your guidelines and desires, for my world is one of excesses, endless moments and prolixity. i am no neophyte when it comes to Internet relations and left to roam free, i’ll uproot daisies until the garden is lifeless. without your moderation to temper my excess, my enthusiasm, now flourishing, will wither. i speak sage-like from experience. > I propose a tryst at the same time tomorrow evening. >> confirmed - adieu. Vincent turned off the computer and slumped down in a state of both relief and disbelief on his hard single bed. He pondered the events of the evening and his heart jumped with excitement at the prospect of befriending a kindred intellect of comparable calibre, and a female no less. It is true that there are no friends among equals but could matched adversaries become lovers? The brilliance of the mystery woman stirred his heart yet the coldness of the discussion disturbed him. “I do not even know her real name,” he reminded himself aloud so as to temper his overactive imagination that was already on its way to having them exchanging nuptials. And so he faded away into deep repose with a radiant smile that allowed his face to glow in all its glory, a smile that had been in hibernation for three long years. The minutes crawled as the rendezvous hour approached. This moment had been much anticipated and relentlessly relived throughout the day. It is human nature to hope, and hope is the rope that keeps the lonely hearted tied in knots. Vincent knew not what Annakie looked like yet loved her already, not for who but what she was; that lovely silent transcript in the night. As the digital discourse of the previous evening played through his head the desire to know more about her heightened and the fact that he actually knew so very little about her became more painfully evident. But he did know by association and would the Gods be so cruel as to torment his aching heart further? Surely she was the celestial seraph sent to deliver him from his torment. As the intellectual battle of yesterday raged in Vincent’s head he avowed to disarm the dragon-slayer of her escutcheon in an attempt to see her for what she really was and in doing so endear her to his heart. And so on cue he set off the flare to alert his noble adversary of his presence. > Annakie, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance and would hope that we become best of friends. Though we both come from vastly different spheres of knowledge, it intrigues me how the common intersection point is philosophy. Perhaps at a higher level there is but little difference between us as Artists like you and Engineers like I create, and of course Philosophers like us commentate. You have made me aware that to read is to feed but to write is to smite. Although writing is important, reading should not be neglected as even the most skilled pugilist cannot deliver knockout blows without sustenance. >> our common intersection is what i appreciate most. from my limited knowledge of who you are, coming to me through your cautious and polished interpretation of yourself, i can sense a depth of feeling which i am constantly seeking in faces of the dusty mortals jiggling and jangling up and down on the seats of public transport. engineer, writer, whatever... understanding depth of feeling is what is needed. self-awareness is perhaps an important part of this. > I feel a strong predilection toward you and therefore have no hesitation in revealing that my real name is Vincent Veenstra. It is my desire to expedite the process of getting to know you and unravel the many layers intrinsic to complicated and brilliant individuals, two qualities that more often than not accompany one another. >> my true denomination is phyllis bordeaux which admittedly is not as exotic as annakie. the blandness of phyllis is balanced by the distinction of bordeaux thereby having an equalising effect. I can see in you potential for respect and friendship however the problem with meeting someone over the net is the vast spaces left to house fantasy and projection. so what's this veenstra business anyway? what's the origins of that name? > I must agree that your surname, of French origin if I'm not mistaken, is really quite impressive. I'm sure you will have a difficult time surrendering it when/if you get married, especially for a Smith or a Jones, as Phyllis Jones is certainly not as distinguished. Do not think that the pernicious sentiment in the questioning just fired across my bow went unnoticed or unappreciated for that matter councillor. Is there a technical name for trying to produce a reaction in this manner, other than ill-manners I mean? I will naturally forgive you this indiscretion, as you are a lawyer, and simply write it off as the lack of refinement generally associated with THAT profession. Is this the type of B-grade intellectual argument you were hoping to engage in as a means to lavish some hatred upon me? I have a high inertial brain, peculiar to most complex thinkers, so any reaction you do produce will be small and probably yield little sport. Do you accost all you potential suitors in such an indignant and belligerent manner or only the ones you genuinely start to develop feelings for? This is a natural reaction from somebody who has been hurt very badly in the past. Do not be too critical of my surname for one day it may also be yours! My surname is Dutch. It is typical for a region in the northern part of the Netherlands and southern part of Germany called Friesland. Other typical Friesian surnames include Veenstra, Leenstra, Hoekstra ... These names are not typical for Australia as there was little reason for the Dutch to migrate here - particularly the Friesians who were largely rural people. Please forgive the length of my response as I am feeling unusually prolific today. >> please be so kind as to never apologise again for the length of a response. i feast upon words, and the tastiest words are those addressed to me. so I imagine that’s where friesian cows originated? By the way can you name the seven high court judges? and the eight late 80s/early 90s supermodels? who would you rather dine with, nietzsche or kant? > Twelve high court judges - yeah right. How about Pilate I'm sure he was one. Just to force my head a little further into the lions mouth I must say that to me the law is nothing but a bore although I often find justice far more interesting. Supermodels - I got 7 out of the 8. I might suspect you of being the eighth except anyone of your intellect is probably not in the same league of beauty. The only supermodel that ever impressed me was Cathy Ireland and not for her body but for her exquisite taste - she married a research scientist. I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that I am unfamiliar with the work of both Nietzsche and Kant because as I have told you before I am a novice literate. My true splendour has nothing to do with how much, but how little (relatively speaking) literature I have read. Life is long and perhaps one day I shall share in the thoughts of these gentlemen although they are way down the priority list. So there you have it, a good reason to dislike me as my inferiority is exposed for all the world to see, savour the moment as there will be few others. Anyway to answer your question, I would rather have dinner with Nietzsche as I think he is German and I love a good chicken schnitzel. Knowledge may be power however wit is far more absolute. Anyway I don't think I fared too well with your trivial trivia but then again I never was a learner, committing useless facts to memory, rather learned putting useful thoughts into practice. Do you know what the questions are that really matter and more importantly - can you answer them? >> of course I know the questions that really matter and of course I won’t answer them. you’ll discover in due course that you’ll need to be equipped with a whole set of keys to unlock the numerous doors to my heart and a suitable vessel to escape once you’ve been there. the devils i know relentlessly chew at my heart (the heart being the designated literary centre of emotion) and burn me in their freezing fires. the devils i don't know can be contained within my imagination, stretching only as far as the reaches of myself, never acting upon me but able to be manipulated by a click of my brain. the fears i have often overwhelm me and leave me stagnated or else scurrying down (excuse the mouse imagery) a billion paths at once. That is why i am addicted to burrowing into the minds of strange men. > Fear is something each man must live with and is the main motivator that drives us on as a species. Men who fear nothing have no reason to live and are apathetic to death. Becoming overwhelmed by fears however sounds like insecurity to me but then again is it possible to live, love and lose without acquiring them? Am I boring you? Sorry, my insecurities are starting to manifest themselves. Whereas your devils are contained by your imagination, mine are the fruit of an overactive mind. The horrors presented by others pale into insignificance relative to those inflicted upon oneself. As you like to explore the minds of strange men, I like to unlock the hearts of genuine women. Although the mind is strong, it will always be nothing more than a slave to the heart as the body is also. I have seen first hand how a sick soul can drag the intellect and body through the bowels of perdition. Does your interest lie with strange men or strangers that are men? >> this time it is I that must bid you ciao as I find myself afflicted with ssld - sudden self-loathing disorder - unwittingly brought about by my recent ogreish thoughts and words. until tomorrow. Characteristic silence pervaded the room once more as the grinding of mental wheels and typing of processed thoughts ceased for the evening. The enigma surrounding Phyllis grew and frustrated Vincent who did not have patience as one of his stronger virtues. “Phyllis seems very comfortable with word play,” quoth Vincent, “but maybe if I make her address real issues and discuss real relationships her true self shall be revealed.” Vincent scowled in horror as he pondered Phyllis’ physical appearance. He imagined the worst to temper his enthusiasm and reinforced this view by exclaiming aloud, “she must be ugly!” Beauty is inversely proportional to intelligence in women although this general rule of thumb did not appear to apply to the male gender, in his case anyhow. It disgusted him to think that the argument had come to this, particularly given that a week ago he would have been grateful for any intelligent female company, but oh how the rich can afford to be choosy. Vincent burst through the door panting frantically like an asthmatic in a November dust storm and raced to switch the computer on. He was five minutes late and characteristically feared the worst. Writing to Phyllis was now an obsession, moreso than a pastime, and he could not fathom losing an indulgence of this magnitude. Vincent found himself doubting the sincerity of the sentiments he had been expressing. It fascinated him how upon meeting a stranger, one was granted a clean slate and could completely reinvent himself, effectively becoming whoever and whatever he wanted to be. Pushy had become someone that he could believe in and respect by virtue of selective anonymity but was it the real him he was portraying, and more importantly, was Annakie the real Phyllis? > Forgive my tardiness Phyllis and I’m afraid that I have no excuse only reason. I was unfortunately tied up talking to a man about a dog. Today I was pondering what it is that you are you looking for in a relationship. Intelligence is obviously very important to you judging by the amount of intellectual bravado packed into your messages. I always make the mistake of seeking out a carbon copy of myself, possibly because I am probably the most interesting person that I have met, which is admittedly an indictment on my life so far. Perhaps this is the misguided fate for those who choose to live without heroes. Have you a plethora of stimulating chat friends that you amuse yourself with?
Copyright © 2001 Bradley Postma |