On Helmut Kravitz, Briefly

I just realized something about the mythology that I misspoke about before. For the sake of full disclosure, I feel these sorts of little details are important. I've been talking about the Undigestible Man as though he spawned the mythology, but that isn't entirely the case. There is another character who predates the Undigestible Man, who has been around far longer - long enough, in fact, to have retired from the mythological spotlight long ago; long enough to have been relegated to a chapter or two (and many footnotes) in the mythology's own history textbooks about itself.

His name is Helmut Kravitz. Helmut is my mythology's own Dostoevsky, the Soviet-born political dissident who thwarted his oppressors and flaunted his demons by producing a long-running satirical comic strip called "The Penguin Republic." The Penguin Republic has an entire world unto itself, and has logged many hours of obsession in my brain. The previously mentioned bizarre website project deals mostly with this world (www.thepenguinrepublic.com), but it's also taken more extreme measures, including 3/4 of a 1980's era video game that I toiled over one long summer (this is actually the one aspect of the mythology that might have traction with other people outside of my own mind - I passed a demo of the game around my dorm a couple years ago, and still get requests fairly often for its completion).

But Helmut existed before the Penguin Republic needed an author. His first appearance was in eighth grade, the tragic figure of an ill-conceived novel I tried to write for an English class final project. The story itself was pretty weak, and even then was dominated by the unhealthy fascination with Jungian psychology that has persisted throughout the mythology's tenure. There is a planet of mysterious origin dangling nearby the Earth, hidden just behind the moon. It was actually created by the military (or something), as a psychological weapon of mass effect (I guess?). The hook: its terrain is psychologically malleable, capable of manifesting a person's subconscious thoughts into reality (sound familiar? I could probably rename this blog "Improbable Manifestations of the Jungian Subconscious," and perhaps I will yet). And yes, as expected, the people who created the planet did not anticipate the full repercussions of its powers.

I can't remember now what it was called, and I only wrote the first fourty or so pages, mostly involving the landing party facing hideous parades of their worst fears in city squares. Come to think of it, there were also blob-like human things that were meant to just be thoughts - always milling around in marketplaces and along busy thoroughfares. I never connected them to their shadow-people counterparts until now. Anyway, I got stuck pretty quickly, because I was mostly concerned with building up to the awesome ending: after facing wave after wave of Jungian foe, driving most of the crew to isolation or suicide, there are only two characters left: the hero, who I don't remember (his name might have been Jonathan), and Helmut Kravitz, the sole survivor of the previous expedition to the planet. Helmut is kind of the prototype of the Undigestible Man here, having endured enough in life to be unaffectable and perpetually unaffected. Except that he is not undigestible, but precisely the opposite: deciding at last to confront the enemy directly, Helmut is actually consumed by the planet, and by giving his life saves that of the hero (who is instantly forgettable).

(To be totally honest, I think the whole premise of the novel was unintentionally ripped off of an episode of Red Dwarf, in which the same exact thing happens, minus the ending. This feels good to admit; I think this is therapeutic.)

I liked the name alot, and so Helmut Kravitz has persisted through the mythology's many iterations. In times where I've tried to think about a world with less profoundly depressing conclusions, Helmut often serves as the thankless character who bears the brunt of dark thoughts for everyone else. For example, I've often thought that the crew of the Remote Fishing Resort were obsessed with Helmut Kravitz's work. There is a shack floating out at sea, far away from the resort, where one crewman at a time is isolated for several weeks, only interacting occasionally with ambitious guests who've gone too far out of the bay and need more bait or gasoline (this was an actual function at the fishing resort I worked at). The big dare while whittling away the endless hours in the outpost, already fragile and alone, is to read Helmut Kravitz's The Life and Times of the Undigestible Man, which tells of the titular character's descent to the center of the world, where he finds the controls to the planet and drives the Earth into the sun.

I promise that there are not-dark aspects of the mythology as well, but these are the things I'm the most anxious to let go and finally be rid of. Sometime soon I will get into the Fast Food Ambassador, and then I'm likely to ramble on about Time until I'm out of it.