Dearest Rachel –
I’m sure you remember how pop culture influences our conversations; how we relate to each other, and even how we see ourselves. Remember the little internet quizzes that would ask “what character from [the latest ‘thing’] are you?” I think we were a little dismayed, for instance, to see that we would be sorted into different houses; I would be placed into Ravenclaw, while you were marginally categorized into Hufflepuff, if I recall correctly.
Of course, your favorite bit of pop culture was that of Doctor Who; you always wished that the TARDIS would land in your town or backyard, and you could head off into adventures throughout time and space, setting right what once went wrong (yes, I know that’s the tagline from Quantum Leap, but you always had that noble streak about you when it came to such adventures; what’s the whole point of going somewhere – and somewhen – if you can’t fix what’s wrong with it? And why would the TARDIS bring you there if there wasn’t something that needed repair?) I can’t recall who you most wanted to be like – you saw yourself as a companion, as wouldn’t ever consider yourself fit to fill the Time Lord’s shoes directly – mostly because the one character I think we all admired back in the day (Ace) basically became your roommate’s secondary personality; any attempt you might make to emulate her would fall flat in comparison, so as with the Doctor himself, you didn’t even try. But you still dreamed of the day when you could be part of that world, as we do with the best bits of pop cultural media.
These days, I can’t talk with you about what’s happened to the Doctor, and what you might think of it all. I literally haven’t watched a single episode since your passing, and from the buzz I hear about it, I’m not sure whether either of us are missing much because of that. The whole bit with the Master telling the Doctor about the Doctor’s “true” origins (as if the Master can be trusted to tell the truth), while polarizing, actually seemed like the perfect ambiguous ending to our journey through time and space, along with your departure sucking any enjoyment out of watching anything thereafter. Think about it; a bad episode wouldn’t be enjoyable by its very nature, while a good one would simply leave me wishing you were still here to see it and discuss it. So, I’ve given it up, and even if the TARDIS landed in our backyard, I probably wouldn’t consider a lift if offered. It would probably result in a “Father’s Day” (“Sweetheart’s Day,” maybe?) moment, which is decidedly against the rules of that fictional universe, anyway.
This leaves me wandering through other pop cultural worlds, sometimes forgetting that they started up after you left – sometimes long after, depending on how you look at it – and wondering what your take on them would be.
The most recent (mostly because their latest episode dropped just a couple of days ago; the show has been out since before my trip halfway around the world. As an indie animation production, they’re quite slow and deliberate in their releases, with this being only the sixth episode in three years) has been a 3-D style animation entitled The Amazing Digital Circus. While it has all the bright colors and cheery appearance of a kids’ cartoon on the surface, it doesn’t take long before it’s revealed to be anything but, with elements of Sartre’s No Exit and Harland Ellison’s I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream, among other references. The kiddies aren’t going to get most of that.
Unlike a few other channels, Daniel doesn’t want anything to do with the series, so I have to watch it on my own, which makes it a little more of a painful experience to do so. I think he objects to the character of Zooble.
Yeah; not a kids’ show.
By the way, I mention how Zooble is supposedly relatable, but I suppose I should be relating more to Kinger, since he’s the one who actually lost someone prior to Pomni (and by extension, the audience) arriving on the scene, but it’s not dwelt on any more than Zooble’s self-identification. Granted, that’s mostly because Kinger doesn’t seem to have recovered from the loss – not that the circus is conducive to recovery, or mental health in general. But he has moments of lucidity, and in them, he proves to be surprisingly stable and mature – something to actually aspire to.
But I think I can relate to the mix-and-match character a little better (and there’s probably another separate letter in that somewhere), including her desire to stay out of the thick of the chaos as much as possible. Interestingly, despite supposedly being an artificial intelligence, the ringmaster seems to be bothered by Zooble’s efforts at non-participation, and has, by the sixth episode, taken to hanging outside of her room, singing ‘Daisy-Bell’ in an homage to 2001: A Space Odyssey. This plot point is leaned into by several of the other characters in the middle of the episode’s ‘adventure’; a “Most Dangerous Game” style hunting game. The team of Jax and Pomni (who’s decided to lean into an ‘evil’ persona for the sake of this particular game) have her barricaded in her room, and in order to flush her out, proceed to use the same tactic to rouse her as Caine:
And for the better part of the past week, that song has been stuck in my head. Well… not it, exactly. More to the point, it’s the reply that you taught me, way back when. Apparently, it wasn’t an actual second verse, but rather a parody of the original (but you may have already known that, particularly due to the last line having an alternate, less profane version):
Michael, Michael, here is my answer true
I’m not crazy over the likes of you
If you can’t afford a carriage, forget about a marriage
’Cause I’ll be d—ed if I’ll be crammed on a bicycle built for two
Given my experience with catfish on the various dating sites I’ve thrown time and money at, I find myself thinking that Michael dodged a bullet here. The vows include “for richer and for poorer”; if Daisy can’t deal with the latter, she really doesn’t have the right to the former, should it ever befall him. At the same time, I can also relate to his being half-crazy; where does a guy go from being turned down? Who else can he seek out, as if that supposedly Daisy-shaped hole in his heart could be filled by any other random female?
So you might be able to see why it sticks in my mind. It’s made worse when you consider that I’m not in Michael’s straits; given time and inclination, I could get my hands on the proverbial carriage, but would it pique anyone’s interest? Granted, it’s not as if what indulgences I make in retail therapy are done with anyone specific in mind – and therefore geared toward her own tastes, whatever they may be – but that’s only out of ignorance rather than neglect. Were she to present herself, I think I’d be more than willing to adjust my spending accordingly.
Then again, it may not be the vehicle itself that is the sticking point in any event; it just serves as a plausible excuse. But with the excuse invalidated, what is at issue? What is it that Daisy – or Megumi, if you will – really wants? In that, too many of us guys are all Michael… and yet, we press on, because what else is there for us to do, other than just giving up?
With that said, honey, I’d appreciate it if you would continue to keep an eye on me (and perhaps the boys, assuming they’re willing to look for themselves), and wish us luck. We’re all going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 