I've come to terms with the fact that I have an inner hermit lately. There's a part of me, and probably most other people, that has no desire to communicate with other human beings on occasion. Generally, the very social aspect of me wins out, but it doesn't change the fact that there exists a small aspect of me that tends towards being anti-social.
(bad joke break: Why did McCarthy become a hermit? Because he was anti-socialist!)
Now, my inner hermit doesn't like the idea of total and complete isolation. I've come to the theory that there are about 4 different types of hermits.
First, there is the Hermit's hermit. This is the guy who lives on the 12 foot diameter sandbar in the middle of a lake in the middle of an island in the middle of an ocean. He (or she) likes his privacy, and ain't no one gonna take that away.
Second , There's the guy who buys the small farm out in the middle of the prairie. This hermit doesn't mind if there's the occasional passer-by, they just don't want any kind of close personal contact, and the regular contact they do have is not to be on a consistant basis.
Thirdly, there's the hermit who lives in the run-down house in the corner of a small house in a small town. Everyone knows who they are, but they talk to no one. The prefer the fame of being enigmatic to the company of others.
Lastly, there's the neighbor who loves to live in the middle of a huge city with tons of people around. There's a new sort of anonymity in crowds. Instead of the anonymity of desolation, you get the anonymity of population. There are so many people, that you're just a bit. This hermit doesn't know their neighbors, doesn't talk to people, but he still enjoys the company of large groups of people, just not any kind of intimate relationship.
Alright, that's all basically pointless, really, just some thoughts on hermits. I think my hermit would probably fall into the last category. The only time that I ever run into my inner hermit though, is when I'm suddenly thrown into a situation where I meet someone who was previously just an acquaintance and I have the option of just leaving them to their life, or trying to make friends with them. My social self says, "ooh! More friends!" My inner hermit says, "awww, come on...don't you have too much to do already? Can you handle more friends?"
At this point, I always beat down my inner hermit and make the friend, or at least try to be social. In talking to other people, I'm finding out that I'm not the only one with an inner hermit though--maybe everyone's inner hermits could get together sometime, if that wasn't such a contradiction of ideas.
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I'm excited for potatos! Yay for potatoes! Mashed Potatoes is actually my favotiest food ever.
Wow, I really like that, the desolation vs. isolation bit. Hurrah for Novel updates.
Here's a poem for you. It's one of my recent favorites.
"Vers de Societe" by Philip Larkin
My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
To come and waste their time and ours: perhaps
You'd care to join us? In a pig's arse, friend.
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed.
And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I'm afraid--
Funny how hard it is to be alone.
I could spend half my evenings, if I wanted,
Holding a glass of washing sherry, canted
Over to catch the drivel of some bitch
Who's read nothing but Which;
Just think of all the spare time that has flown
Straight into nothingness by being filled
With forks and faces, rather than repaid
Under a lamp, hearing the noise of wind,
And looking out to see the moon thinned
To an air-sharpened blade.
A life, and yet how sternly it's instilled
All solitude is selfish. No one now
Believes the hermit with his gown and dish
Talking to God (who's gone too); the big wish
Is to have people nice to you, which means
Doing it back somehow.
Virtue is social. Are, then, these routines
Playing at goodness, like going to church?
Something that bores us, something we don't do well
(Asking that ass about his fool research)
But try to feel, because, however crudely,
It shows us what should be?
Too subtle, that. Too decent, too. Oh hell,
Only the young can be alone freely.
The time is shorter now for company,
And sitting by a lamp more often brings
Not peace, but other things.
Beyond the light stand failure and remorse
Whispering Dear Warlock-Williams: Why, of course--
.
Ahoy, to all fellow hermits.
But then, if I really acheived my ideals of hermitdom, would that actually make me happier...?
I wonder....
What if you're forced to be a hermit? What then? Are you actually a hermit? Or are you a himit?
This is also fairly appropriate (and a poem, to boot) for the concept of hermitdom.
Of course, would a hermit blog?
-Somewhat Human
Cut to two hermits on a hillside.
First Hermit Hello, are you a hermit by any chance?
Second Hermit Yes that's right. Are you a hermit?
First Hermit Yes, I certainly am.
Second Hermit Well I never. What are you getting away from?
First Hermit Oh you know, the usual - people, chat, gossip, you know.
Second Hermit Oh I certainly do - it was the same with me. I mean there comes a time when you realize there's no good frittering your life away in idleness and trivial chit-chat. Where's your cave?
First Hermit Oh, up the goat track, first on the left.
Second Hermit Oh they're very nice up there, aren't they?
First Hermit Yes they are, I've got a beauty.
Second Hermit A bit drafty though, aren't they?
First Hermit No, we've had ours insulated.
Second Hermit Oh yes.
First Hermit Yes, I used birds' nests, moss and oak leaves round the outside.
Second Hermit Oh, sounds marvellous.
First Hermit Oh it's a treat, it really is, 'cos otherwise those stone caves can be so grim.
Second Hermit Yes they really can be, can't they? They really can.
First Hermit Oh yes.
Third hermit passes by.
Third Hermit Morning Frank.
Second Hermit Morning Norman. Talking of moss, er you know Mr Robinson?
First Hermit With the, er, green loin cloth?
Second Hermit Er no, that's Mr Seagrave. Mr Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr Seagrave.
First Hermit Oh I see, yes.
Second Hermit Yes well he's put me onto wattles.
First Hermit Really?
Second Hermit Yes. Swears by them. Yes.
Fourth hermit passes by.
Fourth Hermit Morning Frank.
Second Hermit Morning Lionel. Well he says that moss tends to fall off the cave walls during cold weather. You know you might get a really bad spell and half the moss drops off the cave wall, leaving you cold.
First Hermit Oh well, Mr Robinson's cave's never been exactly nirvana has it?
Second Hermit Well, quite, that's what I mean. Anyway, Mr Rogers, he's the, er, hermit...
First Hermit ... on the end.
Second Hermit . .. up at the top, yes. Well he tried wattles and he came out in a rash.
First Hermit Really?
Second Hermit Yes, and there's me with half a wall wattled, I mean what'll I do?
First Hermit Well why don't you try birds nests like I've done? Or else, dead bracken.
Fifth Hermit (calling from a distance) Frank!
Second Hermit Yes Han.
Fifth Hermit Can I borrow your goat?
Second Hermit Er, yes that'll be all right. Oh leave me a pint for breakfast will you? ... (to first hermit) You see, you know that is the trouble with living half way up a cliff - you feel so cut off. You know it takes me two hours every morning to get out onto the moors, collect my berries, chastise myself, and two hours back in the evening.
First Hermit Still there's one thing about being a hermit, at least you meet people.
Second Hermit Oh yes, I wouldn't go back to public relations.
First Hermit Oh well, bye for now Frank, must toddle.
Colonel (coming on) Right, you two hermits, stop that sketch. I think it's silly.
Second Hermit What?
Colonel It's silly.
Second Hermit What do you mean, you can't stop it - it's on film.
Colonel That doesn't make any difference to the viewer at home, does it? Come on, get out. Out. Come on out, all of you. Get off, go on, all of you. Go on, move, move. Go on, get out. Come on, get out, move, move.
He shoos them and the film crew off the hillside.
Monty Python is amazing. I hermits.
Just like you love kermits. ;-)
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