There was a show on TV2, every Friday at 3.30pm, way, wayyy long ago, called The Storyteller.
It has one storyteller, relating one dark fairy tale per episode.
I loved that show. One of my favourite episodes was one when the storyteller told of his origins.
He escaped a death sentence from a king, for 10 years, by offering to tell stories. One story a day. And that the whole series was a collection of his tales.
In the old days, telling stories was a form of currency.
One day, he woke up and couldn't find a story to tell.
The Soup Stone? Done that. The Two Brothers (European folk tales usually incorporate elements of two brothers in it, and I have read more than six versions of the same story with two brothers in it)? Done. Countless Jack Tales(Jack Tales were Sven Tales, or Gerhardt Tales or whatever, before the Europeans migrated to the States and these stories became Jack Tales)? All done!
All was done. And so was the storyteller. He would be killed, boiled in a big cauldron.
His wife left him for another man. That man also caused a lot of suffering to the storyteller.
Finally, the storyteller was brought before the King. Having no story to tell, he told the tale of his day to the monarch.
When he was finished, tears came streaming from the eyes of the King. He applauded what was to him the best tale the storyteller has ever told.
I feel like the storyteller, on his last day.
I don't have a story for you today. I am finding ways to stop trying to make you understand. To stop needing you to understand.
You don't need to understand me. You don't need to think of me in any way whatsoever.
And I do not need you to.
This doesn't mean I am going to stop telling stories.
The Storyteller, after telling his last tale in an episode aptly entitled "The Last Story", continued for one or two more seasons. There were many more tales to be told.
Currently, I am finding a batch of new stories to tell.
I don't know what the stories will be.
I know it won't be about myself. Those things have served its purpose. Lots of things have come and gone.
In the past years, I have lost friends to death, migration or a simple difference in ideals. I made money, I spent money, blah blah blah.
I wrote movies, books, TV series and comics. Articles and proposals and reviews and whatever else.
I even wrote a musical.
There is nothing - no format I haven't tried. Some were good, some bad. According to my judgment.
You'll read about it some day, maybe.
For now, I'm off to re-reading The Sandman.
