Have I been Deluded?
Submitted by DonnaBarr on November 21, 2008 - 13:20
I mean, more than usually.
There are at least TWO things my readers totally missed, or only just recently guessed:
1. When I was hinting like a mad thing that Udo was Jewish, NOBODY got it (okay, one friend in theater got it).
2. Only very recently has ONE reader (congrats!) asked me if I was extrapolating from Maus when I wrote Desert Peach #26, "Miki."
Spiegelman senior didn't tell Art the possible reason the girl might have told the officer to abandon the prisoners -- or the machine gun. Senior MIGHT have known -- he was around the German Army -- but we don't know, because he didn't seem to have told his son. A German girl came up to me at a show, tapped the figure of the girl on the cover and said, "This is my mother." Which wasn't very surprising; as usual, women and kids were in desperate situations at the end of a war.
I knew I wasn't far off a lot of repeated experiences when I wrote it; I've never been afraid of cliche. God is a lousy screen-writer, but It writes incredible comedy. I think It considers everything funny.
I don't really believe in Higher Powers, or if there is such a thing, it's as distant as Vishnu. I think I go with minor local spirits or daemons -- nyads and such. Ghosts, tutilary deities. A local boy who died, who loved to fish, I always invite along on fishing trips. It seems to make him happy. I get fish. I love spookiness and I hear things (it may just be mini-aneurisms, but leave me my nocturnal entertainment).
Spirits are very local, but they have influence and they talk to each other. You don't want to kill a bobcat in Washington State and then join the Army and get shipped to the Middle East, do you? Bastet will GET your ass; she lives right next door to the djinns.
The only things I know about the Spirits is: They either want Thanks, or Entertainment. So look up and say "Thank you" once in a while, or they will start to poke you, just to watch you squirm. They are like poorly-raised children, and we are their lizard in the road.
Another writer -- and dear friend and touring companion -- joins me in doing the aforesaid mini-prayer whenever something goes right while out traveling. We know it's either say "thank you" for the nice meal or the pretty trees -- or have both front tires go flat.
Because They love to hear us swear.
(Hey, I don't use my beliefs to keep anybody from marrying or stone anyone to death. And I help keep the incense industry going.)