The Beginning of the End

Enough is enough.

As far as I know, there's no twelve-step group for pathological mythologizers, so I'm forced to ad lib my own therapeutic treatment. It sounds like a joke, which is honestly kind of the appeal, but realistically I have to do something about this 'habit' of mine before it makes my life unbearable. It's a thing I've always done, a thing I've always allowed my brain to do. Not content just to watch cartoons as a kid, I filled lined notebooks with short stories, poems and activities based on Darkwing Duck and Ghostbusters (and who exactly was going to ever complete my Inspector Gadget connect-the-dots, I'll never know). I would include my own series with the already established ones, referencing characters and themes that might just as well have existed so far as I was concerned. I think the "Lemon Brothers" had a space ship laid out like a maze to disorient boarding enemies. The "Vegetable Patrol" was a much earlier work from my pre-literate days. Even back then the schema of the cast was pretty solid - Tomato Man threw tomato bombs, Carrot man had some kind of carrot gun, etc. Maybe not a full mythology there, but at least a decent line of toys.

This persisted throughout my adolescence in various forms. There were fake newspapers for all the video game characters I cared about (Kings Quest, anyone?), and text adventures made in QBASIC for the sole purpose of flushing out an unnecessary spoof universe of Star Trek. I would watch the BBC space sitcom Red Dwarf and make lists of all the different permutations of the four main characters throughout the show's run. These were all very nerdy things, obviously, but even when I became less nerdy for a while the basic theme of mythologizing persisted. I wasn't interested in stories or characters or philosophies as much as I was obsessed with entire fictional worlds. Mythological systems. Volumes and sets of stories and characters and philosophies. I wanted to hug the entire universe of the shows and games and books that I loved, and in the process dynamically create my own.

And then, around the age of eighteen, my mythologizing mind gave birth to The Undigestible Man. I had finally grown out of sharing other people's already well-trademarked worlds, and was ready to really forge my own, a journey of obsession that would inform my background mental activity for at least the next five years of my life. This really gets to the heart of this blog, the beastly mess that I need to get out of my brain before it takes up any more space. In five years of constant churning, the mythology of The Undigestible Man has changed forms many times. Tone, genre, setting and backstory have undergone countless iterations, but there are certain names and themes and scenes that persist. These have been building on each other, based loosely on experiences I've had, people and situations that have had lasting impressions on me. New experiences often introduce new puzzle pieces to the world, and these new bits will do their best to fit in with the rest, some succeeding more than others. Several times I've recast the whole mythology from the ground up, maybe even aiming to think about something totally different. And yet, inevitably, the Undigestible Man sneaks back in there, followed closely by his persistent chain of associates, clamoring always for a place in my thoughts.

The funny thing about this is that I never really talk about this world that I spend so much of my time in. I'll mention bits and pieces of it to people at various times, but it's already too big and complex to get into in casual conversation, like trying to talk about what's happening in book nine of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series (I'd imagine, anyway - I haven't read it), or trying to explain to someone who's never seen the show what's going on in season 4 of Lost. My world is big, and it's getting bigger every day, and not even my girlfriend is privy to its wide and nuanced corridors. And for what? I couldn't say. It's just something that my brain does, feeding and nurturing this massive beast of a mythology that I can't seem to let go of even if I try (and I haven't honestly tried that hard - I spend a lot of time in this place, and it means a lot to me).

So, to make a long story long (and most likely ward off potential readers of this blog), I'd like to lay it all out, as I understand it. Get it out there, excise it from my brain. I'm hot on the heels of another effort to do this; I recently fashioned a complex website where the mythology might express itself on its own terms (www.thepenguinrepublic.com). But that mostly confirmed for me that this world is not particularly inviting or accessible to anyone other than myself. It's a fantasy suited only to me, and as such is not worth this continued incubation time, because even if I could spend three life times bringing it to life, I would end up both hopelessly unsatisfied and pointlessly alone. I can't seem to kill it, so, maybe I can deflate it.

It all started with the Undigestible Man, and no matter what form the mythology takes, be it a movie, TV series, video game, novel, graphic novel or bizarro website, it always seems to end the same way. After everything that happens to him (which is quite a lot), the Undigestible Man eventually finds his way to the center of the earth. Here he discovers the controls to the planet, and we realize that the entire story has been narrated from his point of view, as he carefully meditates on what to do next. Unfortunately (both for him and my own mental state), the Undigestible Man then decides (usually) to steer the planet out of its orbit, and drives it straight into the sun.

And this is why I need help.