When Soupy was out for his visit this past weekend, he told me not to abandon the reviews and other shit on the blog that make it so cool. Which is basically what I’ve done. Since I’m not writing posts as much these days to focus more on other creative endeavors (i.e., short stories and novel) that might actually do me some good in terms of my “career,” I’ve been using the blog more as a daily journal, a brief respite to say Hey, I’m still here; a way to stay in touch with you, my fans. Y’know, like telling you what I had for breakfast. The diary of a tween. Who’s the cute new boy in class, that kind of shit.
Which I would think would be boring as hell for you. Kinda like when you’re going through a lazy period with your girl and you propose the always enticing “staycation.” You know she’s sick of yet another Saturday watching Netfix. Girls like to do stuff. But you also know she’s not going anywhere and so you feel confident that you’ll make it up to her later.
Yet, for whatever reason, the last few days, readership on the blog has quadrupled. Rather ironic. Since I stopped blogging daily because I lost readers. After switching over to WordPress, hits plummeted, and it was further revealed that a lot of Blogspot’s statistics were inflated in the first place due to something called “bots” overseas. I don’t know about bots. Except this one. From my kid’s new favorite TV show, Team Umizoomi.
Bot’s special power is he shows things on the screen on his belly. Not much by way of a super power. But it beats his sidekicks, who I think can turn into animals or something to do with water. Or maybe I’m thinking of the Wonder Twins. It’s a kids show.
I say this is ironic. Yet I’ve ever really been sure what the term means.
It’s been a running joke I guess since that shitty movie Reality Bites, but I’m still not sure anyone knows what it is. Like Winona, you know it when you see it. Like Steve Buscemi in Con Air. (I’m not even going to cite that ridiculous Alanis Morissette song.)
I of course know the official definition, like anybody with fucking access to a dictionary or the Internet. Yet, like most of my world views, my reality is completely different than the world’s at large. I simply heard, once upon a time, a definition of the term, which though not ground in any sort of factual basis, I adopted at truth, and I’ve used it as my operating definition ever since.
Back in the old days, I knew this douchebag named Brian, the Sidious to my Anakin, the Rizzo to my Buck, the Woody to my Quaid. He was the world-wise hustler from the street (or galaxy far far away) from whom I would learn how to survive without working and by taking advantage of others (if you’d like to know more about that acidic relationship, I’m doing my best to get it published). Anyway, he hated the word irony, said it never really happened, drove him nuts when people used it. Brian said irony only occurs, and I quote, “when the actions taken by a hero to avert his fate result in said fate occurring, thus fulfilling destiny.” It’d be like if an asteroid was about to hit the Earth, and a hero sends a missile into space, knocking it off its course. But it turns out that before he took that action, the asteroid was actually going to miss the planet, but by sending the missile, the asteroid is now redirected and will hit Earth. We had many long, speed-fueled discussions about this.
I never fact-checked his story. Just adopted it as truth, and I defended it for years, getting in heated arguments with people, insisting this was the definition of irony.
I’m sure there’s a life lesson in there somewhere, how following the lead of a bat-shit crazy man had, in essence, been an exercise to escape my fate, which of course wasn’t my fate, which I eventually discovered when the actions taken to avert it ultimately delivered me to, um, my fate. But I don’t want to look that hard.