Belated. But less belated.

I thought I’d get a little of this down.

Examples of made men–in the “simulacra of humans created by magic” sense–include the golem, Pygmalion’s sculpture, that strange bronze man that Medea helped Jason and the Argonauts defeat, and Frankenstein’s monster.  I’ll also note the soldiers that sprung up from dragon’s teeth–they weren’t really a created individual, which is most of what I’m looking at, but they do come to mind.

Two functions seem to show up.  First, there’s creatures created not to fulfill a duty but simply to be, because having them around was what their creator wanted.  Out of this you get Frankenstein’s monster, Pygmalion’s sculpture, Snegurochka the Snow Maiden from Russian folklore, and actually pretty much any of dozen examples of “child created out of objects rather than born because the parents wanted a child so much”.  This is not what I’m thinking about right now.

Second, there’s the made man that has a protective function.  The golem is pretty much the most blatant example I can think of; persecuted minority + ghetto + desperate need for protector -> great hulking clay defender.  The strange bronze man (can’t remember his name, but I’m sure one of my Asimov books mentions him as being the first example of a robot, which is actually a pretty fair description) was also, IIRC, protecting the land that he was found on, although the story there focuses on the protagonists who need to get around the protector.  Hrm.  Made men as having a tie to the land–made of clay, protecting a specific terrain?  Need to reread that Greek myth.  On a similar note, the soldiers sprung up when the dragon’s teeth were planted in the earth.

…actually, that last sentence probably addresses every single metaphor I want to play with, except the birds and the Fowler.

(I can’t actually promise that any of this has a point.  It’s mostly just an expression of one aspect of the context I’m putting a particular story into, so I have it down in a concrete form.  Once it’s in a concrete form, it’s easier to refer to, build on, and change if I need to.)

Hrm.  Cannot think of birds having any association with made men.  I know that in Russian fairy tales, sending the raven off to get the water of death (which made a dead body whole again) and the dove off to get the water of life (which made the dead body not dead) showed up occasionally, but I think that was strictly restoring a previously living human to life.

Alright.  Moving away from myths/legends/folklore of made men and towards the scarecrow…

  1. made by humans, yes;
  2. protective device, yes;
  3. associated with cultivation and so with earth and specific patches of land, yes;
  4. wards off birds, yes.

Thinking of them, still, as made of what I can only call natural fibers, albeit cultivated ones.  The idea of a jack-o’lantern-headed scarecrow, while quite possibly impractical, is also one I really like.  So it stays.  (I was influenced by Bradbury’s depiction of Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud at an early age… the image of someone leaving this plane of existence by blowing out their own candle flame and then having the smoke curl out of ears and eyes and nose and mouth is, to me, incredibly powerful.)

Need to look at the associations of fire; off the top of my head, there’s just standard transformative stuff, the duality of creation and destruction, nothing particularly special.

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Alright, I thought vacation was *over*…

It still feels like Friday.  And it’s past 2 a.m. on Saturday morning.

Am home, and since getting home… well, there’s been a lot of late nights and a lot of sleeping in.  Until noon, today, in fact.

I don’t like this.  I really don’t like the feeling of so much time lost, slipping away.  And I’m a bit worried because of how upset I actually was.  I’m not sure if it was just the sleeping in and feeling disoriented when I woke up, or being late to take my meds, or what.  I mean, I settled down fine for breakfast, but I was really unhappy before then.

I don’t imagine staying up until 2-a.m.-plus today will help either, though.

In other news… well, not much.  I’m going to be keeping an eye on my mood, and going back to the job hunt.  I made it out to stitch-n-bitch last night, and felt a bit more awkward than usual, but it wore off.  And I’m going to set my alarm for tomorrow.

Just about finished catching up on Breaking Bad; the closing music is playing for the end of season four.  Brilliant show.  Have started watching American Horror Story as well, and am–

Oh.

Oh holy crap.

Okay.  Well.  Just saw the end-end of the last episode of season four.  Walter, you son of a bitch.  That’s brilliant.  That fits.  It’s horrible.

I highly recommend that show, FTR.  Check it out, if you haven’t seen it.

Recovery

Wow.  Missed two days, there.  Not feeling great about that, but carrying on.

Made it home, and not feeling quite as satisfied about that as I might expect.  The place feels… well, it’s mine, and that’s good.  But it feels much less comfortable than some of the places we stayed.  I know that hotels are designed to be comfortable[1], so there’s an edge there, but this place feels like it’s not ready to be lived in yet.

We picked up a painting in a little homestyle restaurant the other day–yesterday, in fact.  It’s all warm gold and brown tones, a country road and a cloudy sky, an oil painting that was up on the wall for sale.  I’ve hung it up, and it seems to help a bit.  Looking around now (not anywhere I can see the painting in question), the walls seem pretty bare.

Maybe reorganizing a little will help.  I don’t know.  We don’t spend a lot of time in the living room; our offices are on different floors.  I know it’s different coming home, but it definitely seems easier to spend time away from each other with the layout here.

Something to think about, I guess.  Probably when the coming-home melancholy wears off.


[1] And they all had these amazing pillows.  I mean really big pouffy cuddly pillows. I miss them.