WARNING! THIS IS A SPOILER THREAD! (more below the fold)
If it hasn't occurred to you by now,
ek hornbeck (your humble servant), has about as much reality as
Mark Twain.
This separation between real me and my fictional self has some very practical roots. After it's been soaked with kerosene you just have to cut the damn grass out and replace it with new sod. I do feel I've been honest enough so you could get within spitting distance were you so inclined.
Too late now.
Some people may think that my motivation is to snipe from behind a mask. "'ek' you don't have an e-mail or a website you weasel". If you want a response from me, reply to a comment. When I think I'm done I usually just give you a hug (4), but I still promise a personal piece of snark (or an unworthy substitute).
'ek' is not a character of my creation, I was assigned it for a class dramatization and it resonated. I had already been thrown out of morning exercises twice (year long suspensions mind you) for refusing to say the pledge and reading during the minute of silence. (Hmm... I just now started wondering what my teacher was thinking when she assigned me 'ek').
I hadn't thought much about it for years when I was confronted with the question about how I wanted to be known on dKos. 'ek' leapt from my fingertips unbidden.
'ek' was always a political soul mate, but I must admit that I didn't understand him emotionally then the way I do now. Do I want a fan? I'd die first.
I am shallow and one dimensional. You can't quite place my name but it has unpleasant connotations. I write brilliant little symphonies of words, IMHO. "'ek', you seem so..." Cynical? That's my fascination... I came here to find a stump to shout from too, but I'm no longer as sure that Henry's Lizzie leaves behind yesterday's messiah. Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell.
It's very flattering when you comment, it feeds my immense ego whether you're a fan or a foe. If it grieves you to read reporting so biased, I have an answer. I AM NOT A REPORTER! I'm a critic.
And when the time comes for me bid a fond farewell to Hillsboro (remember, I had a nice clean place to stay. I left it to come here.), I'll miss it. A melange of Moorish and Methodist, it must have been designed by a congressman. Pity? Hah! Show me a whiner, and I'll show you an also-ran, a might-have-been, an almost was. Let us leave the lamentations to the illiterate. Besides, you're damn right to be tired of me, I've never pushed a noun against a verb except to blow up something. No one will come to my funeral, it's where my loneliness leads me.
I believe in manifestos, not good byes, and one should not be mistaken for the other. Heck, I'm prepared to defend my MetaNamesake, HL (but only so far, he said some really hateful things). The only thing you have on me is that I'd spit on someone's grave.
But as pleasurable (in a totally onanistic sense) as it has been to visit my fictional self, my main question is this-
Do dogs grow to look like their companions, or the companions like the dogs?
