La la la la la la la Lie

What is the point of stories that aren't even true?  When first posed, I found the question to be quite absurd.  Of course there is meaning in fiction. Profound meaning.  We are all merely a collection of stories, some of us are even illustrated.  As we are all living books filled with poetry, adventure, romance, tragedy, comedy, and irony; it is the stories that are not true that binds all of us living books into a great anthology.  Without fiction it would be exceedingly difficult to relate to one another, music has this power as well, we would have a hard time understanding each other at all without the humanities.  The universality of fiction is the great connection, the stories about stories within stories, that harmoniously links us all as human beings.  What is the point of stories that aren't even true? That is like asking:  what is the meaning of existence? and for that reason it is a valid question.  When we study literature we are really studying ourselves, our history, our origins, our place in the world and in the cosmos.  I find those who study literature are usually seeking a greater understanding that science and religion have failed to  explain.
It occurs to me that much of my understanding is rooted in 'the lies of poets'.  I would not be the person I am today without these stories.  From this class I have learned that it is perfectly okay to be a hopeless and incurable romantic and perhaps that piece of leftover naivety will help keep me young; or at least keep me searching and learning.  I discovered during the course of the semester that Romance is not what I thought it was, it is in fact much more complex and universal than I had imagined.  Furthermore, Romance is like Mythology in that it is everywhere.  We are surrounded by Romance in the same way that we encounter Mythology in our daily lives.
It can be said that Mythology is all lies, yet these lies influence culture and humanity; the same can be said for religion.  Our origins and belief systems are rooted in stories, some are dismissed as lies and others rarely have their integrity questioned.  Regardless, it is the 'lies of poets' that make up our collective consciousness.  We use mythology, religion, fairy tales, and folklore to explain our origins, to teach our children morality, and to reconcile our very existence.  That is the point of stories that aren't even true.
I also discovered over the course of the semester that if you rattle off song lyrics in poetic form people will accept them as profound poetry instead of dismissing them as mere songs.  I understand that not everyone approaches music and literature in the same way that I do, but I found this concept amusing and hope to test it further in other classes.  For example, when my group was writing our presentation  Jill wanted the journey to take three days.  I immediately rattled off "shadows of the morning light, shadows of the evening sun, til the shadows and the light were one" which are the lyrics to Three Days by Jane's Addiction, which she liked and we then used.  For my term paper I used the words of Dax Riggs, "the kite string pops, I'm swallowed whole by the sky" from the Acid Bath song Bones of Baby Dolls to illustrate the break with and recovery of consciousness.  One of the students asked me 'who said that?' which cemented my belief in lyrical poetry.  Music, literature, and art bleed into each other flawlessly and are rightly named the humanities for they teach us what it means to be human.
The title of this blog comes from a song I've been listening to a lots since I returned from Arizona.  I think it relates to the class and my blog especially in dealing with the more violent aspects of literature and human nature.

Vicarious 
Eye on the TV. 'cause tragedy thrills me. Whatever flavor it happens to be
 Like:
"Killed by the husband" ...
"Drowned by the ocean" ...
"Shot by his own son" ...
"She used a poison in his tea,
Then kissed him goodbye"
That's my kind of story
It's no fun til someone dies.
Don't look at me like I am a monster. Frown out your one face, but with the other
Stare like a junkie into the TV.Stare like a zombie while the mother holds her child,
Watches him die, Hands to the sky cryin "why, oh why?"
Cause I need to watch things die from a distance. Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies
You all need it too - don't lie.
Why can't we just admit it?
Why can't we just admit it?
We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'
Neither the brave nor bold. Nor brightest of stories told. We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'
I need to watch things die from a good safe distance. Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies
You all feel the same so why can't we just admit it?
Blood like rain fallin' down. Drum on grave and ground
Part vampire, part warrior, Carnivore and voyeur. Stare at the transmittal. Sing to the death rattle.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie (x4)
Credulous at best. Your desire to believe in. Angels in the hearts of men.
But pull your head on out (of) your hippie haze. And give a listen. Shouldn't have to say it all again
The universe is hostile. So impersonal. Devour to survive. So it is, so it's always been ...We all feed on tragedy.  It's like blood to a vampire.Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies
Much better you than I.
--Maynard James Keenan