In order to see some good friends that I haven't seen in a long damn time, I attended the Pittsburgh Comicon, generally not my type of thing; however, it provided some interesting fodder for analysis. For me, mainly in the area of false realities. The overarching philosophic question being "Can we ever really know reality?" This question has been tackled a lot, especially by some of the modernists. I'm inclined to say "No", our version of reality is tainted by cultural expectations, our own ideas, past experiences, and a myriad of other things. I do think that there is some common ground though, a shared set of perceptions that makes up the world we know.

The comicon was most interesting because some people seem to be caught up in a world that few share, a world of superheroes, villans, busty women in spandex, etc. They don the costumes, read the books, own the action figures. But why? Why put that much effort into such a false reality? Today I saw Wolverine, Wonder Woman, Cat Woman, Spiderman, Blade, and a myriad of others most of whom I probably could not name. The irony - pale, sickly, socially awkward were these superheroes. They are socially outcast, and the reality that they cling onto is one where they can imagine that they are the opposite. I tried to imagine the social ramifications that would occur if a comic book reality were real. Crime is nearly out of control, mainly being handled by vigilantes. These vigilantes are huge, all powerful, almost god-like. Everybody is bigger, the women are even more out of reach. This doesn't seem like the ideal place for the average acne ridden, high school outcast. Then I remembered, in classic comic book mythology the heroes are often outcasts, Superman is a mild mannered journalist, Spiderman is a dorky research scientist, all of the X-Men are social outcasts. Not only that, but they are heroes - they save people, they are glorified (usually). This hope of an idealized reality seeps into their reality, and when mixed with a function where they are not only tolerated, but welcomed you get grown men in costumes in the middle of September in the suburbs of Pittsburgh.

I tried all day to understand. I'm a bit socially strange myself, philosophy tends to ruin some social skills one may have had. And so, I too wear a costume. I go out and work my job and wear my man suit. I wear my costume in how I dress (comfortable and normal so as not to stick out, generally dickies and a t-shirt), how I talk (short words and empatheically, "Ohh famous person x died, that's too bad"). We all wear our costumes to fit in with certain groups, to blend into our own version of reality. And that is how I learned to connect with people who paint themselves completely blue and go out in public...

9/12/2009 - False Realities

Posted by SilverWind Quite an interesting and amusing perspective, I can relate to some degree to that need of warping oneself into a fake reality. I have a sort of romantic obsession with the past. I know in reality it was bloody hard particularly for women, but I still look fondly back upon those bygone days. I go to Ren Fairs, and Celtic Fairs, gobble up Historical fiction, collect medieval weaponry, and sometimes go out in public wearing a cape. And well for me it is because I am a social outcast, though mostly by own choosing, the modern world does not impress me much and I love myth and magic. Permanent Link

9/17/2009 - Untitled Comment

Posted by Zachtin We live vicariously to escape, to live outside the bounds of our own acne ridden souls. We are what we project ourselves to be. There is no escape from death, but thankfully we can escape from reality whether through comics, drugs, or television. Self-transcendence comes in many forms. Prove me wrong myself. Permanent Link