(OK, I wrote waaaaaaaaaay too much for Blogger’s “About Me” section so waste not, want not)
Who am I? Why ask me? For as long as I can remember, I've been a figment of other peoples' imagination. Hell! Even my "real" name isn't my real name. Back in playschool, the staff deemed my actual name too "foreign" and "confusing" for them and the '80s. So, they dustpanned my cultural inheritance (the name of two Scottish kings, that Great Byzantine emperor & a Funky Dread), and I was hence-forth saddled with the moniker of a cartoon Velociraptor (worst. Swapsies. Ever). Neurologists and paediatricians discouraged my mother from ever teaching me my mother tongue because, in their expert opinion, it’d “confuse” me. Their medical negligence changed the way I see the world but more pertinently, it effects the way others see me. I'm a half-pint who's half-English and, to most people, half-human - and that's pretty half-assed. There's nothing half-hearted about me.
I've never been a creature of the herd. I've never sought nor made many strong bonds beyond my immediate family. Consequently, this oddball "Wog" has drifted in erratic orbit around the fringe of the outer circle of everything - like some brown dwarf star. Being regarded as ‘half’ this and ‘half’ that can, in small doses, afford one an amusing perspective. However, unlike Dr Who, Superman or Jesus, I don't have the luxury of invincible immortality to fritter away on the sidelines of halfwits’ half-baked antics. I'm not footnote-fodder, no asterisk-jockey nor a marginaliac. I've wasted enough of my life, trying to live up to or against expectation – only to still have to reside in the remove. Enough is enough. I'm Me as hell and I'm not gonna take it any more....
In the olden stories, uber-titan Cronos got put through his own magimix by his upstart offspring and his remains were strewn throughout the dismal depths of Tartarus. With the passage of time, Cronos pulled himself together, downsized his ambitions and settled for a desk job in the elysian fields. In that there titanic Harry Potter franchise, evil Lord Voldemort seeks immortality by decanting portions of his soul between several Horcrux vessels. I gather it does not pan out so well for Voldy. I’m entering the blogosphere to reclaim a gestalt identity from fragments of the real me I find embedded in various incidents of social interaction and cultural consumption. Failing that^ pseudo-intellectual goal, I’ll simply slag off as many people, movies, books and records as I can, as often as I can.
I've never kept a diary before so why start now? Well here's the chapter 'n verse:
"The path of the social alienated is beset on all sides by the iniquities of RECEIVED opinion and the tyranny of tabloid strawmen. Blessed is he, who, in the name of candour, and blogtacular time-filling, shepherds society's scapegoats out of the valley of dumb-ass platitudes, for he is truly his sanety's keeper and the finder of lost TUNES. And I will strike down upon my keyboard with great sarcasm and furious whimsy against those who would attempt to poison and destroy my blog. And u will know my name is The CritIQ when I lay my funke-funke wisdom upon thee."
I am a ferel, feckless and full-time useless Social alien, hear me grumble!
No comments:
Post a Comment