Deeply flawed, but fundamentally decent, I approach life with an irreverent attitude toward certain modern social conventions, while harboring a profound nostalgia for bygone traditions of honor and decency. We each have our own code, and I succeed and fail by mine.
The rather nifty illustration of Connery era Bond imagery featured above is the handy work of an artist named Lloyd Peek. It was posted on this blog with permission from Mr. Peek and he can be contacted at email@example.com if you have any inquiries about other Bond illustrations. The werewolf has never meet Mr. Peek and knows very little about him, other than he and the werewolf share a deep interest and affection for virtually all things Bond. Peek contacted he werewolf via this blog's stated interest in Bond over several different posts. The piece itself does a wonderful job giving a truncated illustration of the Connery Bond era from Dr. No (1962) through Diamonds are Forever (1971). (The werewolf has excised all recollection of Never Say Never Again, as it was produced and distributed on account of cosmic villainy) In the bottom right hand corner we have the first real Bond babe Honey Ryder emerging from the surf of the Caribbean with a conch shell in hand not unlike the mythical live goddess Venus emerging on from the Mediterranean on seashells. In the top left, we have the ironically mysterious and timeless image of Bond arch-nemesis, Erst Stravro Blofeld, sitting in the beige Mandarin-style suit with his sinister white lap cat. In between, we have the timeless Austin Martin DB5 (arguably the coolest car ever), the lethal-mute butler Odd Job, Willard White's "White House" Vegas Hotel, amongst others images. Although it's not the werewolf's preferred artwork, it's certainly cool and catchy, especially if you're a Bond fan.
This brings the werewolf to a second point about talent. The werewolf has always been impressed with those who have a talent that manifests itself obviously and are able to harness that talent to effective end. Some people are athletes, others artists, musicians, writers, social networking, handymen, or cooks to name a few avenues that talent can be realized. The curtains are drawing to a close on the werewolf's third decade, and he has yet to figure out his talent/niche. Perhaps, there is a talent in being talentless. Having a talent or skill that the werewolf is truly exceptional at still eludes him. It's not that he is looking hard, he isn't. Nor does he need validation. He has made it this far and is very comfortable in his own skin. It's just he wonders if he missing out on anything life offers considering the absence of any obvious talents to bring to the table. His darkly Darwinian side wonders if his lack of a talent is the source of his preference for solitude and speaks to his primordial instinct to be wary and skeptical of commitment(on the flip-side he places an extraordinarily high premium on things he is committed to because he knows and values his word and the notion of commitment unlike most others in society). The werewolf is a lone wolf at heart. As he watches so many contemporaries shackle themselves in the bonds of marriage for all the wrong reason, such as fear of being alone, societal validation or some other imagined social pressure, perhaps finding solace in solitude is a talent unto itself.