The Truth Or Just One More Irrational Mistake.

  Marcel Proust: He was determined to tell a story in great detail as the good writer that he was. Being eloquent in his recounting the tale of a life from earliest times to ..well, as much of it as possible. Many who read his work get the impression the life being narrated is his own. So I drew great pleasure from his comment that it was all fiction. I feel this way about the story I am part of. I have created my legacy in my mind and that is mostly personal narrative, only because truth is only an ideal and as such is not knowable. Like a man who comes out of unconsciousness and learns second hand of how he had an accident or blow to the head or whatever. In my case near fatal events while riding bicycle. We are not always aware of what the role is we are playing in life. I like to be cognizant of what is going on around me but I will be the first to admit there are times I do not know where the story is leading. If I suddenly were transported onto the set of a sitcom and had no li

The starting line, square 1, it’s all good to start with “I.” But is it I that wishes to start? Life is not a set of choices.   A kid of 14 who started out December 1973, from Montreal, He is on the run after escaping custody at the juvenile detention center St. Valier’s, He is now hitchhiking on California Highway one, Now the passenger in a green Falcon driving between Monterey and Los Angeles, Absorbed in a panoramic view to one side, an over stimulated Salam chain smoking guy, to the left. New Views of the Pacific at Big Sur unfolding before these impressionable eyes.   Ok, it is said that the whole-body regenerates over a period of ten years, so This “Not I,” has somehow grafted memories Of events still disguised as firsthand experiences.   Some memories have worked their way into his psyche. Blended right in you could say. Their descriptions being localized in a present of Originals mixed with modified versions slightly corrupted by (Time?)

Let us consider the number of times we, as individuals, have experienced failure to communicate. For my hypothetical interlocutor to be a successful purveyor of truth, he must ooze confidence, his internal dialogue must be affirming. Thoughts must come to words and words must come to meaning and purpose. Not only does he need to make some sort of sense , but it must contain concrete evidence of the scientific method being employed in the direction or pursuit of something. I wont claim to be an expert of neuro-psychology or physiology so I will limit myself to describing my experience with the actual facts that unroll. Not only one meaning or one purpose but many. I am starting to sound like Robin Williams in Flubber.  Actually infinite quantities of each. The more we find the fewer we will need as we cannot possibly consume all the meaning and we certainly cannot attend to every purpose. Would it be a bad thing if we could but decided we were not going to make the effort?  Yeah, the m