Bones – The Man in the Outhouse

Stupid show. Why am I blogging about it? sighs But this episode was interesting because it exposed Brennan’s double-stacked dating practices as she saw two different men, a deep-sea welder and a botanist, which in her place I would find time-consuming and confusing, sort of the way I felt when I collaged this:

Heart-shaped Triangle
Heart-shaped Triangle

I like things monogamous, so I still don’t know what to make of this collage, even after all these months. Maybe I put it together because it disturbs me, not only what it shows, but also what it implies. No, I don’t like it. But I like it. What’s up with that? I remember finding the background and thinking it was a beautiful image, a nice place where I could put a tiny man: in the embrace of a woman, a wall he could only try to hug back.

Much later I found the male element of the collage, times two. My mouse somehow moved on its own to save it, even as I stared at it and thought, There’s no way I’ll ever find any use for this image, because I like collaging monogamous situations. One man, one woman, just the way I like my real life.

The day came I started trashing some images as I paired up elements to collage later; background with foregrounds came together beautifully; a surprising thing, as the way I accumulate collaging material is random, and I often dodn’t remember I have images that go perfectly together.

I came upon those two little guys and the woman, and like sentient shoelaces that tie themselves, they wrapped around each other in my mind, and I tossed them into a folder I called “Heart-shaped”, since the woman’s torso is shaped like a heart by her arm and leg, and the two guys are shaped like a heart as well, though inverted. I forgot all about it as I moved on to work on different images that showed what I really like.

But eventually I found it again, and used the background for another image… I kept staring at those guys, and they finally stared back. Finally, the collage started changing something inside of me.

Does that ever happen to you? You write something and you have no idea where it’s coming from because you would never ever want it to happen. It’s the stuff of bad dreams, but you write it because it’s writing itself through you. This collage was like that, so there I was, lassoing, selecting, cutting, dragging, cloning, shadowing, until it was done, and as I worked, the collage worked on me too; I don’t like it, but it likes me, and I like the story it tells.

And all that had nothing to do with Bones… except in a different TV dimension, Brennan keeps her two little men in the same dollhouse, and Mark can hold his breath down there for six minutes, instead of three. Maybe twelve minutes.

Booth’s interference when he met Mark or interrupted Jason was officious, annoying, and hypocritical; but what I kept thinking about was, where in the world did Temperance San Diego meet a deep-sea welder? Given past seasons’ events, I’m gonna guess she found him online.

Speaking of which, I’ve spent enough time online for the night.

3 thoughts on “Bones – The Man in the Outhouse

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  1. It’s only happened a couple times, that I had to write something because it was correct and consistent unto itself, even if it was something I wasn’t into and wouldn’t have been able to read if anyone else had read it. I’m not usually a sibyl or a vehicle for extraintellectual forces, as much as I’d like to be.

    I wish I knew anything about collaging, as I’ve been saving folders of working material for ages, for exactly these ends, but I don’t know how it would actually turn out in practice.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m actually quite surprised to read your comment, because of the level of crush material in your blog. Maybe that comes from some other place in you? I don’t know. I don’t think we all drink from the same inspiration fountain when we create. We write what’s there to be written, no matter where it comes from.

      I’m “against” cruel and crush and vore, but I’ve certainly written about it, here and there. I don’t like to think about it, or reread it (with one exception) because it’s just too damn unpalatable… but then, why did I write it? Why was it there? Most of the time I can explain away the inspiration for something, but a few times, like the one that originated this entry, all I can do is scratch my head, and type.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. There’s a weird level of self-delusion I seem to maintain. I insist I’m into gentle and giantesses, but anyone who reads my corpus can find ample evidence to the contrary on both points. I’m trying to rebrand myself so I believe it.

        But yes, sometimes I just tell the story that needs to be told. It’s just this little floating signal, and every writer is a receiving station, and some writers will cough it out laboriously or others will accept it smoothly and dress it up for presentation with élan. My practice of pushing myself to write others’s interests has shown me clearly, in some cases, where my boundaries are.

        Liked by 1 person

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