THE BOLSHEVIK
Raging bruised intellect combined with a street fighter's ethics. You don't have to tell him this world is dog-eat-dog. He knows it. The lit-world's accidental byproduct, he's a good writer who by class circumstance is permanently shut out. The result is a Bolshevik.
He'll hector, demand, bully threaten. He loves to slash and burn. To him, every tactic is allowed. Like a good Bolshevik he'll scream for his rights. When obtained he immediately abandons the concept. He can shift perspective or sides in an instant, depending on the situation. It's a singularity of purpose. The goal: grabbing territory. Gaining power, his share of it, is the only principle. To looming power he's obsequious; even groveling. Around no power he indulges his true self. He wants everything and he wants it now. "Gimme, gimme, gimme": a grabbiness; a need to take control of whatever pieces he can as quickly as possible. "I'll take it! Me me me me me." To do otherwise for him signifies weakness.
Because he judges others by his knowledge of himself, he mistrusts everyone. Everyone is flawed. Everyone falls eventually under his perfect disgust.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Monday, August 4, 2008
Profile #2: The Cynic
THE CYNIC
His cynicism masks his insecurity. He fears to jump into the tumultuous underground muck, so instead he raises himself in his mind to a position of superiority. His writing isn't better than theirs, only more polished, more refined. More cautious.
He lurks upon the margins of the underground because he disdains even more the writers of the mainstream. He's seen THEM up close. He knows they're fakes. The Cynic loathes their conformity, of career and of ideas, and so what alternative is there but the Rebellion?
He can join no cause because the very idea of belief in a cause is to him a sign of inferiority. His cynicism tells him it can't be done. And so it won't be done. He's not a contender, because he dismisses the competition.
Always the outsider-- his cynicism is bolstered by being even more of an outsider than the rebels. He remains outside even their ranks-- their crude mob-- floating in a literary netherworld of no decision, no risk, no responsibility; self-image preserved, like a white t-shirt kept forever spotlessly clean.
His cynicism masks his insecurity. He fears to jump into the tumultuous underground muck, so instead he raises himself in his mind to a position of superiority. His writing isn't better than theirs, only more polished, more refined. More cautious.
He lurks upon the margins of the underground because he disdains even more the writers of the mainstream. He's seen THEM up close. He knows they're fakes. The Cynic loathes their conformity, of career and of ideas, and so what alternative is there but the Rebellion?
He can join no cause because the very idea of belief in a cause is to him a sign of inferiority. His cynicism tells him it can't be done. And so it won't be done. He's not a contender, because he dismisses the competition.
Always the outsider-- his cynicism is bolstered by being even more of an outsider than the rebels. He remains outside even their ranks-- their crude mob-- floating in a literary netherworld of no decision, no risk, no responsibility; self-image preserved, like a white t-shirt kept forever spotlessly clean.
Profile #1: The Ghost
THE GHOST
This undergrounder plays his cards close to the vest-- so close he never reveals them. He's a turtle who never shows its head. From a faraway, unreachable spot he maneuvers, but you never see his footprints. You have to guess them by inference; by the effect on others.
Some underground writers have no patience. This one has too much. He waits, and waits-- for others to commit or make mistakes. You know he exists, because on stray occasions other writers say he does. A sudden churning or action begins, in line with the Ghost's thoughts. Proxies appear; the Ghost waits for the outcome. The proxies are blown apart. He remains untouched.
"The Ghost told me," a proxy whispers to you, lamenting, before vanishing into the ether.
The Ghost is the ultimate survivor, last person standing in any battle. The ultimate victor, likely, when all others destroy themselves. Even then he wouldn't take the lead, for all his shrewdness, because that would mean rejoining the land of the living-- to becoming no longer a ghost.
This undergrounder plays his cards close to the vest-- so close he never reveals them. He's a turtle who never shows its head. From a faraway, unreachable spot he maneuvers, but you never see his footprints. You have to guess them by inference; by the effect on others.
Some underground writers have no patience. This one has too much. He waits, and waits-- for others to commit or make mistakes. You know he exists, because on stray occasions other writers say he does. A sudden churning or action begins, in line with the Ghost's thoughts. Proxies appear; the Ghost waits for the outcome. The proxies are blown apart. He remains untouched.
"The Ghost told me," a proxy whispers to you, lamenting, before vanishing into the ether.
The Ghost is the ultimate survivor, last person standing in any battle. The ultimate victor, likely, when all others destroy themselves. Even then he wouldn't take the lead, for all his shrewdness, because that would mean rejoining the land of the living-- to becoming no longer a ghost.
Mission Statement
There are a wide variety of underground writers-- not so wide a variety that they can't be lumped into one of a dozen or so general categories. To follow will be several of them, including:
-The Ghost;
-The Cynic;
-The Intellectual;
-The Opportunist;
-The Fan;
-The Bolshevik;
-The Mullah;
-The Mole;
-The Talent;
-The Ideologue;
-The Recluse;
-The Legend.
-The Ghost;
-The Cynic;
-The Intellectual;
-The Opportunist;
-The Fan;
-The Bolshevik;
-The Mullah;
-The Mole;
-The Talent;
-The Ideologue;
-The Recluse;
-The Legend.
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