The people we idolize (Part II)

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"The Tao."

"The Tao who?"

"The-- never mind, it wasn't the real Tao anyway."

(from http://www.eblong.com/zarf/marriage-story.html)

Despite causing my husband to choke on his iced tea the first time he heard it, I'm fairly sure that this is not as funny as I think it is.  However, it's been running through my head for about 5 days now like a song that I can't get rid of.  It's probably why I'm bothering to muse on this subject.

I'm quite prone to analyze (and over-analyze) my own responses to events, people, literature, et cetera.  It's the age old paen of "know thyself!"  For the first time ever, I find myself looking at someone outside my family and thinking, "This person excels at something at which I want to excel, but I'm not sure I will ever be that good.  I admire him and want to be more like him.  I'd be delighted at his approval, and I'd cringe at disapproval, but I don't want to try to make friends, I don't know him on a personal level, and I have no particular emotional attachment to him."  Is idolize the right word?

Main Entry: idol·ize
Pronunciation: 'I-d^&l-"Iz
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): -ized; -iz·ing
transitive senses : to worship as a god; broadly : to love or admire to excess <the common people whom he so idolized -- Times Literary Supplement>
intransitive senses : to practice idolatry
- idol·i·za·tion /"I-d^&l-&-'zA-sh&n/ noun
- idol·iz·er /'I-d^&l-"I-z&r/ noun

(from http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary?book=Dictionary&va=idolize)

Main Entry: idol·a·try
Pronunciation: -trE
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -tries
1 : the worship of a physical object as a god
2 : immoderate attachment or devotion to something

(from http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary?book=Dictionary&va=idolatry)

The word "idolize" might be a bit strong, but it's the best one the English language is providing for the matter, so there you are.

The person in question (big buildup, unimpressive climax) is one Andrew Plotkin.  I never heard of him pre-July 2004, but in July I got seriously interested in interactive fiction.  (Interactive fiction is a fancy way to say "text adventure" -- think Zork, Colossal Caves Adventure, Photopia, or anything by Infocom.)  He is a big name in the current interactive fiction community, which doesn't mean anywhere near as much as it would have in the pre-graphical days.  (Despite some fiddling with Basic, he was undeniably not a big name then.)

My introduction to the brain of Andrew Plotkin came via a spooky little game called Shade.  Following the link will take you to some more information about it as well as a place to download it.  It can't be played without an interpreter, and following that link will take you to (big surprise) some interpreters.

(Minor aside: someone just brought me pancakes.  Apparently parking enforcement did breakfast today and came up with extras.  How cool is that?)

Shortly after Shade, I played Spider and Web, and (in my opinion, bearing in mind that I haven't exactly played the entire contents of the interactive fiction archive) it's the best text adventure in existence.  After a cumulatively complex series of puzzles and intricate interactions with an NPC, the heart of Spider and Web contains a fiendishly difficult puzzle with a solution that is gloriously, painfully obvious after you see it.  I would be proud to write anything even half as cool.  I relied heavily on spoilers to struggle through Spider and Web, but I don't excel in intuitive leaps of puzzle-solving logic, and, not trusting many amateur game authors, I rely heavily on spoilers to struggle through interactive fiction.  As well as the aforementioned pair, I've finished Hunter, in Darkness (which is an eerie IF rewrite of Hunt the Wumpus) and Donkey Kong (not an impressive feat), and I've promised myself that I won't spoil any more of his work for myself, which means it'll be a long haul before I finish any of his other games.

I just realized I'm supposed to be eating lunch right now.  Back in an hour.

A brief poetic interlude having nothing to do with Andrew Plotkin

I brought the wrong book with me to work today (Ode to a Banker, which I finished yesterday, instead of A Body in the Bathhouse, which I am currently reading) and also didn't organize well enough in the morning to pack a lunch. Between the two, I went off to buy hot chocolate and sit around the UNC hospital writing poetry for an hour instead of eating lunch and reading. (I had pancakes earlier, after all, so I wasn't terribly hungry.)

I buried the actual poetry under the cuts.

( For Someone Who Will Read This )

( The Girl in the Hospital Corridor )

( They Have Found Water On Mars )