Sunday May 1st 2016Tim
hero yet again finds himself on the borderlands between
the English Kings and the Dragons of Wales. And it's
true, thanks to the abject disloyalty of a technical
device that had some kind of mental breakdown at the
prospect of Windows 10 our hero was in exactly the same
place some months ago. However, there's a difference.
This time our hero is not in possession of a hard back
edition of the Collected Works of Dylan Thomas the
margins of which had been scribbled upon by an unknown
who had a totally reasonable obsession with Socrates'
death. The cynical might think their writer of pulp had
forgotten to include that arc of possibilities in his
Not so, it's a
well known fact that in the Northern Hemisphere Socrates'
death is a late Summer through Fall phenomena. The idea of
contemplating the Social Contract through the words of Dylan
Thomas and the wisest of men's refusal to accept exile, is
in the early part of this particular year more than this
writer of pulp can handle. In another way, the whole
Socrates/Dylan Thomas thing was just too complicated for a
genuine hero to have to make sense of in Spring, even if it
is ideal for the Sabean Genre and perfectly satisfies the
tag Episodic-Discursive-Prolix. In yet another way, your
correspondent could well be be shaving his head, wearing
sandals, sackcloth and ash in November, voting for the
Former First Lady.