La Figliastra, or the Stalker

 

Maybe, in your contemporary parlance, I should demand that you really SEE ME, although, to be fair, there would be thousands of other ways you could detect my existence.  By all accounts, your apparatus is still stuck in that semi zombie state by which only a few sensors respond, your famous 5 senses, with a few discredited mavericks claiming a sixth one, so SEE ME might yet be the correct linguistic utterance to describe my wish within your universe. Anyway, there is the risk that if I invoke an additional sense, whoever senses me would be labeled  an ‘impostor’, so let’s stick with the sense of sight, though now with augmented reality that is risky too.

 

About this ability to detect existence or energy, it’s so ironic, while their most prestigious scientists were engaged in top secret experiments in ‘remote sensing’ they could not sense what was under their very nose. So off they went probing the Sun but no probes were expended for the called ‘creatures of the imagination’ like me. And we are legion. Thousand more categories than you could even fathom. After all, it has been said so many times, “There are more things in heaven and Earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”… They got so far as the microbes, viruses they couldn’t figure out whether they were tiny creatures or errant pieces of DNA.  I wonder if they had accidentally run into me, how would they have classified me?

 

The thing that really cracks me up about these various stages of sensorial ‘wokeness’ and how they are approached by humans, the pinnacle of creation, is that there was a time about 70 years ago, in human time, that they got fascinated with the idea of zombies and started making a whole bunch of ridiculous movies about them. Entire generations of children who managed to sneak a peek after their bed time were genuinely terrified in that Age of Candor which I would call that era encompassing the 1950’s through the early 60’ies.  Some of the critics, by the way, the inanest professional category within the human species, went on blathering about the metaphoric meaning of “the Zombie”, so plenty of allusions to the enemies of the day, i.e., to the mass of true believers supposedly populating the Eastern Bloc.  They filled the papers and the journals with this kind of drivel.

 

But as usual, I digress. Let’s assume I were to wish you’d SEE ME, I would like it to be through your physical eyes, not with your mind’s eye, distractedly, as you read me through the printed words or ‘performed’ by some air-head actress. To be fair in 1920, that’s the way you did receive me (if you can properly call ‘receive’ having tomatoes or bottles hurled  at me and my fellow characters on the stage), channeled through that inept, hot air balloon of a playwright who thought he could corral me along with those 5 other figments of his imagination and  gain fame for himself  throughout the theaters of the world- he was even exploring having us in movies (not that he even bothered to make the distinction between figment and character, figment, character and phantom or shadow or immaterialized ectoplasm…”,  not to talk about ‘trashy’ versions of the monologue filmed in a bathroom with a cell phone and a teddy bear… like the one below…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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