The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 99
She was right. I was going in the wrong direction, overlooking a crucial piece of evidence. Such a brilliant clue, her skirt. The universe, see, was essentially a playful place but you needed those profoundly contrasting, otherworldly experiences—those adventures in the Enchanted Realm—to know that deeply enough so its cache rained down on all the nonsense, made clean and comical all the seductive, delusional absurdities of life in the 21st Century.
Old men like me tend to behave like clowns. Wise clowns, sometimes, we tell ourselves—clever and debonair. Trouble is most people 40-ish and younger see it differently. “Creepy,” is a popular word.
That or we become frozen in a state of resentment over our decay, our frantic, (if suave), ineffectiveness.
Or sedated, maybe, or paranoid or lost in nostalgia. Matter of fact I bet I’ve seen The Commitments—an Alan Parker film about a white Irish soul band—20 times over the last 10 years. I even suggested to Juliette one night that we get a bottle or two of Absinthe and watch it together.
I was joking, of course, but it hardly mattered, realizing in retrospect my suggestion, instead of eliciting humor, as it was meant, fell more suitably under the blanket of “creepy.”
Truth is I understood her pefectly the first time, more than a month ago, as we flew over Twentynine Palms together, and she whispered: “Shall we go endogenous or exo?” Too enthralled in flight to react then, it was only later I recognized how funny and ironic her comment was. In other words, no, obviously we weren’t waiting for that 2025 Mars One launch. And yes, we’d be traveling outside the only known, humanly conceived method for getting there: a spacecraft.