Sorry for the late post, my computer has been prone to random spazzes lately…
Anyways, with regard to the works, my favorites were without a doubt those of Borges. I found that the prose flowed beautifully, and at the end of most I was left with a complete mind f*ck. My favorite of these has to be “The Circular Ruins.” It completely reinvoked in me memories of my childhood, where two of my friends and I would sit and ponder whether or not we were part of some huge cosmic video game. We would ask whether or not everything was planned, and if there was some massive universe out there where we were just pawns in a game of chess. No, I’m not kidding. We were very philosophical eight year olds. The story continues with the classic Borges idea of chance being turned into fate. Everything that the sorcerer dreams of his son has such painstaking detail put into it, taking years to complete. It brings into question our own existence. Were we simply the result of years of evolution, or were we each individdually thought out by a higher power? How can we be sure that what we are experiencing is our own reality, or rather a world dreamed up by our subconcious, or the subconcious of another? In other words, this story tripped me out. It completely fascinated me and bent my mind in a refreshing way that it has not been bent for ten years (like I said, we were really messed up kids).
The story of “Hakim, The Masked Dyer of Merv,” however, was one that just sent shivers up my spine. The moment when the mask is ripped off and the lepersy-ridden face is exposed is the stuff of nightmares. I cannot tell whether or not Hakim was an actual religious figure, or a demon in disguise. Either way, it brought about the question of what we can and cannot believe. So many times, humans are tricked into belief, such as the Jonesboro masacre. What drives us to these people? Is it supposed authority, or just a want for something to believe in? How can we sort out reality from falsehood. In the end, Hakim appeared demonic instead of a religious idol. Was it all a facade, or was it a message regarding the fact that the truth comes from the strangest places? I have no idea, and I realize that I’m kind of rambling, but the fact of the matter is that Borges tripped me up…
