In These Words ... © copyright 2014 by Lillian Carrero
I hate (or rather strongly dislike
with vehement obscenities and flaying arms) the word fan; it evokes images of
something osculating—which I certainly do not. I do on occasion shimmy and
shake, but only if it has a nice beat and you can dance to it. I am more than
just the sum of all of my experiences, but there is that, and if you can get
all of my obscure references then you truly are a kindred spirit.
I am mostly (just a tad)
behind the times. Missing that one crucial step that would keep me in sync with
the rest of the world doesn’t bother me as much as it does the people around
me. My discoveries are not spoon-fed or even unique rather they are just late
in coming. I blame commercials I don’t watch them. I wait for the DVD or
stumble onto web sites that contain digital footage. Then it’s me and I ooh and ahh long after everyone
else has stopped. I find the forgotten, and remember that Buster Keaton ruled
silence long before William Holden likened him to a wax relic as Gloria Swanson
made an exit one of celluloid’s most memorable entrance.
There is greatness in
these timeless images that seduce the imagination and create fictitious people that
are not easily set aside, not them or the players who voiced their words or the
writers who first penned them.
That said I am still far
too wrapped-up in what is gone. Hence, it is perhaps the reason I write fan
fiction—because I could not easily let go of that which I discovered late.
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