Wed, 11 Dec 2002
Dear Mister Wonderful,
What is fear? What causes it? How does one break it up into fundamental components to understand it better, or is that not possible?
Why do I still get scared as an adult walking down a completely dark hallway in my own house that I know is empty but for me?
Dear Cowardly Liaisons,
Fear is the unfortunate offspring of ignorance and imagination. It's all down to unanswered questions, you see: What's out there? Will we have enough coffee? Do they like my novel? Will they press charges? Did he fire six shots, or only five?
Since most of us are not all-knowing, as a species we experience fear quite frequently. Reduce the amount of information in the system and you increase the imagination. Our little squirrel brains go hyperactive trying to connect whatever dots remain available to us. Then the body kicks in to help: Widening of the pupils, increased skin sensitivity, rapid blood flow, all these physiological reactions are information gathering tools. The mind has to know, and what it doesn't know, it'll make up. That's when the giant spiders scuttle out from behind the bamboo curtains, ichor dripping from their cruel curved fangs. No, really. Settle the outcome, for good or ill, and you chill Fear's breeding ground.
What I'm saying is: The only man without fear is the fellow who knows he's fucked - in any sense of the word.
Mister Wonderful is, therefore, an antidote to fear. Well. As an answerer of questions, not as an assurance of fucking. I mean. Well. You know. Whatever.
My point is that Love is the fortunate offspring of knowledge and imagination. And it often wears a lab coat.