Pengeélen táncolunk

Szerdai önarckép a vizsgálóba hozott pisztricgombával. Ez egy ehető taplóféle, de csak a zsenge termőteste, amivel a képen pózoltam már öreg volt az elkészítéshez. Viszont kimondottan látványos éke volt a vizsgálónak, sokan megálltak és kérdezték tőlem, hogy milyen gomba? Egy kicsit sikerült felélénkíteni az érdeklődést a gombák iránt, amit nagyban segít a végre valahára megérkezett jelentősebb időjárás változás is, ami hála az égnek esőt hozott! Ma hajnalban arra ébredtem, hogy ismét esik az eső. Le is mentettem a radarképet, mert oly ritka látványosság lett az égi áldás. Döbbenetes mértékű aszály alakult ki már április közepére, lásd előző bejegyzésemet, tehát tényleg nagy szerencsénk van, hogy változott a légköri helyzet, azonban nem várhatunk mindig a jó fordulatra. A klímaváltozás egy olyan mértékű folyamat, ami alapjaiban változtatja meg a világunkat! Ideje tömegesen felismerni, hogy miben élünk. Ha nem változtatunk a vízzel kapcsolatos hozzáállásunkon, gyakorlatilag az éhínséget kockáztatjuk! Víz nélkül semmiféle termelés sincs, és három nap alatt szomjan halunk, ami az egyik leggyötrelmesebb halálnem. Igen, ennyire benne vagyunk a bajban. És ez nem riogatás. 

Derűs katasztrófa

Derűs katasztrófa címmel már van egy bejegyzésem a blogban, amit 2018. késő őszén írtam egy hegyvidéki gombászat után, ami több tanulsággal is szolgált számomra. A kis kép a friss aszályhelyzet Magyarországon. Soha ilyen rosszat nem láttam még nyáron sem, és csak április közepe van! Az a nagy szerencsénk, hogy a téli csapadéknak köszönhetően egy méteren a talajban még van víz, és ez élteti a növényzetet és a gombákat. Ha viszont nem jön csapadék, előbb-utóbb a mélyrétegből is elfogy a víz és akkor olyan aszály alakul ki, ami nyomban felülmúlja a 2022-es nyárit. Pedig azt már elneveztem pokolinak. Lásd abból az évből az egyik júliusi bejegyzésemet. Milyen jó, hogy már van tíz éves dokumentációm, így egyértelműen láthatóvá válik számomra, hogy régóta igen nagy bajban vagyunk, mert már 2014-ben sem volt ideális a helyzet és olyan meleg volt, hogy gombásztárs megtalálta az év első vargányáját a negyedik hónapban.
A víz fontosságáról már 2012-ben írtam és azóta kongatom a vészharangot, hogy a vízhiány kezdi veszélyeztetni a mi létezésünket is. Ha nincs elég víz, akkor nincs mezőgazdasági vagy ipari termelés sem, és az egész civilizációnk összeomlik. Nagyon sérülékenyek vagyunk! Most komolyan, arccal előre belemegyünk a kataklizmába?!

"This has been great joy, yea, the Work of Men!"

I managed to get back to writing in the evening, and I was able to get back into the present story and play the protagonist and the other characters. Because I create my heroes from within myself, I'm totally the inside-out type of writer. I'm very adept and spontaneous at transforming my inner tensions into someone else. (Not all my heroes are human, but I can even play them if I spend enough time with them.) For my current story, I have an easy job because I have human characters and I've set the fictional medieval world as a backdrop, based on real historical European kingdoms. As I live in a country that was once also a kingdom and full of historical memories, it is not so difficult to imagine the world that gives the background to the story, and I supplement my own subject knowledge with recent reading on the subject. But world-building is less important than the acting of the characters, because it is true that the story is derived from the characters, shaped by their choices and the way they interact, and the protagonist, in the face of opposing forces, is also striving towards his goal, while having to discover his true needs and the hidden flaws he must reveal in himself if he is to achieve his goal. Yep, I write character-driven drama even if I'm otherwise writing technically somewhere between 4-5 on a list of ten, which is a far cry from classic fiction. But I take the dynamics between the characters very seriously, as they hide their true intentions and go give and take, sometimes helping each other, sometimes playing off each other, and I simultaneously produce and enjoy the story. When I can see through the eyes of the author and the protagonist at the same time, because they're both me, huh, my mind spins at top speed. Then, when I've completed a task in the weaving of the story, I drop the serotonin bomb and start one of the songs I've chosen for the story and I celebrate. 
I take Robert McKee's textbook Story seriously. I've read it twice so far, and I've made notes on the chapters. I always have the second note with me, because I read it when I get stuck. The question of the dilemma has made me think particularly deeply. Because Robert McKee is absolutely right that the protagonist does not have to choose between right and wrong, but must make a choice in which he also suffers loss and fully understands and accepts the consequences of his choice. I have succeeded in creating four choices for Alexander Ravenwood, and each is more chaotic than the last. One in particular is life-threateningly risky, but as Alexander is 17, and therefore full of adolescent verve, he considers even that a possibility. Then common sense prevails, and he chooses the one that the opposing forces originally intended for him, but Alexander has made a plan for himself by now and the "battle of kings" has begun. Even though Alexander, because of his original gender, has no chance in this fight. The story reveals what on earth I have dreamed up and what kind of story I have written. I may be writing a pulpfiction with a many of sex scenes, but this is a character-driven drama in which the brutality of life flashes out from among the many little bits of bait-and-switch. 
Meanwhile, Alexander is a minor character in the story of his little brother Gabriel, where the preparations for war between the kings are already in full swing. Alexander's story is Moonviolet, Gabriel's is The Red Prince, which I also call Twisted Red. 
Classic storytelling, great play is still amazing fun that can enthrall and enchant. It's really amazing to be an author and a hero at the same time, running my real life in parallel with fictional lives and seeing both the real and the never-been, what yet so familiar as I am creating myself from myself.

P.S.: The title of this entry is the last line of a Hungarian poem, Mihály Vörösmarty, from Thoughts in the library. Because that is my motto as a creator. 

"Magic in the air"

The truth is that I'm not mentally well at all, because I had some traumas in several stages of my childhood, which caused some minor or major dysfunctions in my nervous system. On a better late than never basis, I found schema therapy, one of the national literature of which was published in 2021 and is right here on my desk. I discovered the avoidant personality disorder first in myself, then I'm at the point where I'm head-scratching in front of my neurotic punitive parenting mode that openly wishes me dead. Being with such a cruel "voice" in the mind is not only overwhelming, it is stressful as hell.
For so many years, it was the dreaming that kept me alive, and how the mind began to create concrete heroes in night dreams that miraculously transformed the distressing reality into a story with a possible solution to the tormenting conflict through the hero. There is no consolation in the saying that "every cloud has a silver lining", because it would have been really good to spare, among other things, the insanely high anxiety. Then there's also the fact that if you've been thoroughly mentally beaten over the head by others, your odd behaviour is later identified with you and you're simply labelled a fool. And from this comes further anguish (injury).
Well, I hope you understand now where my strange attitude towards people and life comes from. It's not pessimism, but lessons learned from experience. I try to get rid of my shemas as quickly as possible because I wasted too much time on them. It would be nice to finally see my true personality, because my heroes show that I'm quite different. 

Rabbit-hearted Merwil was my first adult hero in January 2002. Well, yes, I was 24 in the prime of my life and he gave me a crazy adventure, my hero who I've loved ever since, who can always make me laugh because he's the joy of life incarnate in me, with whom strange and absurd things always happen. And I, as an observer of his adventures, laugh with him. It would be nice to have a friend like him in real life, but I have yet to find one there. But his story has a serious dramatic basis, otherwise what happens to him later would not be so amusing and ironic. I learned a lot from my traumas. They form the black stone foundation of my personality, like a dark tomb where ivy has grown and birds nest in the green and dandelions grow around it on the ground and sometimes a light breeze brings sweet scents and the sun shines on it, but the stench of rot and death is still there. Never believe me, I'll make you laugh, only to find I've given you an emotional low blow. Even in the midst of the most hilarious tomfoolery, I am aware that brutality is part of human nature and that all hell can break loose at any moment. Oh, my traumas didn't make me a fool, they made me a wise human. 
Ah, but now I'm having a great time. In the midst of all this shit, bringing my heroes to life, making them visible, is a sweet delight that drops a serotonin bomb on my mind.
Clicking on the third link in the post, Merwil mentions a children's story that I created a song for using AI. It gets much better. This is the first attempt. Okay, I just want to create for the rest of my life. There's been enough tears, misery, anguish, pointless torture. I want joy more than anything, and to resolve my conflicts through storytelling.

The magic

 "The artificial island near the south pole was besieged by waves, and the stormy wind carved through the metal landing strip with ice crystals. The single-person air courier's engines struggled against the storm as the pilot executed the landing. It seemed as if he had stepped out of his coat, practically shedding the small aircraft and stood firm on the artificial surface. The icy wind caught his body but couldn’t lift him; he held his ground. A half-smile flashed across his grim face as the little air courier secured itself before the wind could blow it off the surface. A yellow light flashed on the gray concrete building's wall, signaling the gate opening. He headed towards the entrance, assessing the terrain, searching for potential dangers. Yet, he was he who had approved the construction, and it was his job duty to conduct a quarterly inspection of the secret it contained. His footsteps resonated on the metal floor, and the storm’s howling instantly ceased as the gate closed behind him. Security lights came on, appearing bright after the outside dimness. However, beyond the row of lights, another light flickered, swiftly scanning him. His rock-gray eyes twitched at the sight of the free-roaming phenomenon. Until now, the light had never left the immediate vicinity of the omega.
He took years to realize that the omega and the light phenomenon were two separate entities, and the latter was just as intelligent, thus entitled to the intelligent life forms' rights of the Milky Way. If anyone besides him and the president knew about the secret discovered six years ago after a peculiar night spent celebrating humanity's admission into the Milky Way alliance with the president. Among the variety of alien beings at the celebration, he was protecting the president. Yet, something diverted him from his duty.
To this day, he couldn’t decide what happened, but the experience left a lasting mark on the world, a sweet little baby playing the next day in the congress center’s grand hall under the fancy sign welcoming the friendly meeting between humanity and Milky Way species.
He voluntarily took up the anomaly’s custody, to destroy it if necessary. Unfortunately, the president was a woman, and despite all possible risks, the little one received presidential protection. According to Margaret de Liu, the boy was humanity was gifted, and it was their duty to take care of it, and with that momentum, she handed the baby over to him, who immediately fell asleep in his arms. The president shed tears of moved emotion, never imagining her stern bodyguard to be a man of feeling, and if she didn’t already have three husbands, she’d promptly offer marriage and they raise the sweet little tyke as a big family.
As an earthist, he opposed the excessive openness towards alien races, but 84% of humans voted for joining the Milky Way alliance because the “aliens,” despite all their unusual traits, wanted to help humanity facing extinction.
New fields of science emerged, space biology, space mechanics, space psychology, and with borrowed spaceships, space exploration became possible until humanity could develop its own travel solutions.
Author’s note: Due to different physical and mental constitutions, mitigating the effects of space travel required unique solutions.
In his youth, he was a space explorer, surveying habitable planets for humans as part of a security officers’ team in a borrowed vessel from the Echeno species. He learned for life not every bil (proven intelligent life form) was a friendly fairy, rather he saying “atoms on the baddies.” Unfortunately, he had to keep his observations to himself because the dreadful incident, which he narrated differently as the sole survivor, didn’t fit into the happy overall picture. The Trekkies’ sweetest dreams came true by the end of the 23rd century.
Indeed, the present was idyllic, and the omega was the icing on the cake, as searching for a cuter pup would have been in vain. Yes, he even checked the outer terrains’ database for any similarity.
The investigation results clearly showed the omega was human with distinguishable paternal genes, but the maternal DNA strand was indecipherable. That is, they found the organic keys which, however, kept changing. Despite the anomaly observed in the omega’s bodily cells, it was a sweet little child. Too adorable, really.
The light flashed again, and this time, rapid footsteps accompanied it. The omega, in a white pajama, ran towards him, blonde hair fluttering, and blue eyes reflecting the innocent happiness characteristic of children. The light, now taking a definite shape, resembled a glowing angel girl following the omega. As if they were siblings. Twins born at the same time. Another mystery with no acceptable explanation.
The six-year-old form of the boy halted before him, saluted while trembling all over, trying to remain formal and not ask for a hug. Anyone else would have melted and immediately picked him up to fulfill every wish with a song. But he was hardened by the hell of planet 137 and resisted the senseless urge.
“If you try to escape, it’s minus twenty Celsius outside with hurricane-force winds and ten-meter-high waves. You’d die instantly.”
“Then teach me swimming another time. Shall we watch Merlin and Willy’s adventures together?”
“I’ll watch from the monitor. Too much work.”
“Let’s sing the magic song together! Please! While I accompany you. Too bad you’re always in a hurry. There are so many toys here, why don’t you stay?”
“I’m doing my job.”
“By looking after me?”
“In a way, yes.”
“When will you take me with you? Just like Merlin taught Willy magic and they lived through fabulous adventures together.”
“The magic is already here.”
“You mean the Light! It thinks you’re not really grumpy, just scared of something, just like me. There are monsters in the dark, but they can’t see me because Light hides me. If I were with you, I wouldn’t be afraid at all.”
“You remind me of another little boy who fantasized about space adventures. The world is dangerous, full of monsters as you say. But you’re safe here, and if anything threatened you, I’d be the first to know.”
“Because you built me the bunker.”
He hummed in agreement, the child’s naivety playing into his hands.
“If you always do as I tell you, I’ll take you with me. But not today, you’re still too small.”
“When will I be big enough?”
“When you reach my shoulder and complete all modules of your training plan.”
“And you haven’t done anything suspicious that could endanger Earth,” he added in his thoughts.
A golden light flashed before his face. And he saw a peculiar scene, the omega rapidly fluttering its eyelashes while the light apparition blinked. They communicated in a unique variant of Morse code. This was new, another sign of the extraordinary relationship between the omega and the phenomenon.
“What were you talking about?” - He managed to ask in the most natural tone. “Routine and years,” he thought to himself.
“Light thinks you’re hiding something. That’s so exciting! I can keep secrets. Will you tell me?”
He was telling the truth.
“I’m working on a big plan that will ensure humanity's safety. But you can’t help in this yet.”
“When I’m big, right?”
“Yes, then we’ll work together.”
“Why are you sad?”
“Too much work. And I’m already late. Better sing your little song!”
“It’s my birthday. Can I have a request?”
“If it’s feasible, tell me.”
“Call me Merwil.”
“Merlin, the wizard rabbit, and Willy, the magician’s apprentice combined.”
“Yes, … sir!”
He saw such joy and hope in the omega’s seemingly childlike eyes that his knees buckled, wanting to bend down to embrace him. A servo motor hitch sobered him up. The mechanical augmentations to his severely damaged body reminded him not to make the mistake of falling for appearances again. However, he knew he could permanently win over the omega, which could also prove useful if he made minor concessions to him.
“I’ll enter it into your file. From today, you are officially Merwil. Okay, okay. Too much light. I can’t see anything. Let’s practice working together. How does that song go? The melody is familiar. I hum, and you sing, Merwil.”
He felt a slight pain inside. A twinge at the connection point between his organic and mechanical parts in the chest area. That’s what he attributed the discomfort to. Those blue eyes were filled with trust, hope, and joy, in a very human childlike manner. And child looked up at him. While he looked down into the abyss, where monsters moved, into which he once descended and was forever changed because the hoped-for miracle was a lie. He learned from it. Now it will be different, and he will use the omega for humanity's benefit. Surprisingly, it was easy. Deceiving a child in a controlled environment was fairy-tale simple. Indeed, he carefully built and arranged the “bunker,” a clever trap for the omega, or Merwil."

Note: I have worked on this one tiny detail for eight hours, and it feels far from perfect, which means that writing is an extremely time-consuming activity for me as I approach fifty. Twenty years earlier, at twenty-six, I was considerably faster and more industrious. Those days are gone, so there's no way I'll ever fully develop any of my stories. That is the fate that will befall Star City Roulette, for which I have written a possible introduction. I've definitely got older and it's a different thing to work on a scene. I've always enjoyed playing the characters and it's become even more intense. Actually, writing and publishing a novel, "authorial success", is an unattainable goal, but playing is still a wonderful and demanding task, which requires my whole being, and I find it a very intense experience. I simply surrender to the magic and disappear completely into another world, while my physical body lingers in this oppressive serene hell.
Simply enjoy the little I show you from my infinite imagination.

Dirty white (boy) mushroom

The pavement mushroom Agaricus bitorquis is one of our mushrooms that thrives in the green spaces of the city, growing from April onwards. Its unique technique is to burst out of the slightly dry, hard soil with its hat open, so that the mature spores fall as quickly as possible. That's why his hat is always dirty.
I was walking to work and I noticed the mushroom in one of the streets when Foreigner's hit Dirty white boy was playing on the phone. (This track is also on the soundtrack of my novel Star City Roulette.) As soon as I saw the 'dirty white mushroom', I smiled. I picked up the fruiting body to show it to the novice mushroom pickers who would be visiting me at the market during the morning.
If you want something really good, open the link and meet my beloved blonde hero, the white rabbit of my imagination.
And you should also read the second article of the day, which is a freshly written excerpt from my never-to-be finished novel.

Polgári életérzés

Tegnap egy fotóválogatást raktam ki, aminek címe "Nem védjük értékeinket". Ez a gondolat a mai nap is foglalkoztatott engem, mert tényleg megfeledkeztünk azon vívmányok megvédéséről, amikért sok felmenőnk az életét adta. Nemrég volt a nemzeti ünnepünk, a Kossuth téren még kint vannak a gyermekek által elhelyezett ünnepi díszek. Jó kérdés, hogy miféle példát mutatunk nekik, ha ugyan felfogjuk egyáltalán a példamutatás fontosságát! Úgy látom, hogy a 21. századra a "modern ember" belehülyült a kényelembe és egyre inkább butul, képtelenné válik a gondolkozásra, a prioritások felmérésére és a valódi értékek felismerésére és védelmére. Álltam a déli napsütésben a város főterén, amit annak idején EU-támogatásból újítottak fel. Néztem a 19. század második felében épült eklektikus stílusú, polgári életérzést tükröző épületeket és a derűs hangulat ellenére elkomorodtam. A nyugathoz tartozunk, a nyugati szellemiség formált minket és mégis egyesek elárulják ezt a fajta szövetséget és a keleti despotáktól remélnek védelmet árulásukért, megfeledkezve róla, hogy a keleti pusztaságból elmenekültek az ősmagyarok és a lehető legnyugatabbra vándoroltak. A nyugatot választották. Akik a jelenkorban keletre pislantgatnak, még az ősöket is elárulják! Mit remélnek, amikor történelmi tapasztalataink vannak arról, hogy milyen birodalmi elnyomás alatt lenni?! Oroszország és Kína nem érti a szabadság eszményt, és nem is jófej azokkal, akiket felhasznál birodalmi céljaik elérése közben. A magyarországi rezsim kapcsolatai a keleti despotákkal árulás, szembeköpése Szent Istvánnak, Mátyás királynak, Petőfi Sándornak és sorolhatnám hosszan a valódi fejlődésért aktívan tevő történelmi nagyjainkat. A narancs rezsim emberi minőségének alacsony szintjét jelzi a választása, hogy keletről bármit is remél és megtagadja mindazt, amit a nyugattól kaptunk.

A főtérről elsétáltam a Munkácsy emlékházhoz, amit szintén EU-támogatásból újíttatott fel a város pár éve. A Gyulai út elején a 19. század második felében néhány nemesi, vagyonos család kúriát építtetett. Ezek közül kettő a mai napig fennmaradt. Az egyik az előbb említett és a fotómon is szereplő emlékház, a másik átlósan vele szemben tekinthető meg, amiben jelenleg már a bábszínház van. A fejlődés jele, hogy kispolgári/paraszti származékként a szép tavaszi napsütésben szabadon bemehettem a kúria udvarára és körbejárhattam, sétálhattam az egykori angolkert-töredékében és üldögélhettem pavilonja alatt. Nos, mindezt a feudális rendszerben nem tehettem volna meg. Esetleg szolgálóként vagy más alacsonyabb rendű kisegítő személyzetként. A társadalmi és vagyoni egyenlőtlenség időnként szétveti a "szép világot" és a régi rend védelmezői ronda véget érnek az esztelen tombolás során. Lásd Bajcsy-Zsilinszky Endre elgondolkodtató sorsát, aki ifjú korában halálosan megsebesítette Áchim Liker Andrást. Természetesen nincs isteni igazságszolgáltatás, pusztán érdekeikért küzdő emberi lények vannak. És a küzdelem minden szinten zajlik. Vészes naivság azt hinni, hogy minden rendben van és nem zajlik már a III. világháború, vagy a pici magyar langymeleg kakiban egy hideg polgárháború, amit a narancs rezsim vív 14 éve mindenki mással szemben és ehhez erőforrásért keleti despotákhoz folyamodott, amivel árulást követett el.

A Habsburg-birodalom 19. századi kataszteri térképből vettem ki egy kis részletet, amin zöld vonallal rajzoltam körbe a jelenkorban emlékházként működő kúriát. A másikat, amiben a bábszínház van, zöld pöttyel jelöltem. A képen látható még a liget egy része a valamikori sörházzal, amiben a 21. században a Körösök Völgye Látogatóközpont található meg. Ha azt hiszed, hogy a 19. századi nagy arányú fejlődés a vagyonos nemeseknek volt köszönhető, tévedsz. Azok foggal-körömmel ragaszkodtak birtokaikhoz és előjogaikhoz, és ezzel akadályozták a fejlődést, aminek negatív hatásait a jelenben is nyögjük. Nem lehet országot fejleszteni, amikor az ember a saját vagyonát gyarapítja és nem győzi elrejteni a milliárdokat magántőke alapokba. Ha azt hiszed, hogy a jelenkor nemzeti=nemesi gazemberei jót tesznek az országnak, sürgősen tanuljál a történelemből és tanulmányozd a diktatúrák "fejlődését" és hogy mi is történik az ilyen rendszerekben az emberekkel. Amit a nyugattól kaptunk, hogy például én a jelenben békésen ücsöröghetek szinte bárhol kedvem szerint és fotózhatok, gyarapíthatom kreatív projektjeimet, a nyugatról jött fejlődésnek köszönhetem. És ebben benne vannak többek közt a nő mozgalmak is. Én látom és értékelem az értékeket, valamint tudatában vagyok a béke törékenységének és annak is, hogy mindezt kötelességem a saját jól felfogott érdekemben védelmezni! Ha erre te nem vagy képes, "nyomorult és tudatlan állat" módjára végzed be. Persze előfordulhat, hogy tömeges inaktivitás esetén, majd a robbanás során magam is a "romok alá" kerülök, de ezt is figyelembe veszem döntéseim meghozásakor.
Lásd derűs képválogatásomat. Lásd, milyen szép a világunk! Ami bármikor pokollá válhat, mert a többség (sajnos) egyre kevésbé képes gondolkodni.