ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Persistence of Memory It's officially Halloween but nobody cares. Talking to Becki on the phone last night, she told me that an old acquaintence of mine wrote a novel. I was shocked because this fellow, though I liked him, was more socially stunted than I am. He had a very hard time connecting with people, so to the point that he ceased to try. And yet he wrote a novel; an examination of human life. How?????? This has lit a fire under my ass to write something. I've been starting and scrapping novels for far too long. It's about damn time that I actually do something. I'm now trying to decide if I should go ahead and write my memoirs or the collection of "Stories I Wish I'd Never Heard". I think that I'll actually do both. Start my memoirs and work those other people's stories into the text. Everyone who brushes up against your life, no matter how briefly, affects you as a person. They are weaved into the fabric of your being. They are you. I should embrace that and own it and incorporate it into my presentation of myself. Now the hard questions: Do I tell everything? Everything that I remember, that is? The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly? There's plenty. It's hard. I will not be the only one to suffer if I do. Everyone suffers. Everyone feels and so they suffer. This is the way of the world that we've woven ourselves into. How can we escape it? Why should we ever want to? The suffering is our only way to appreciate life. The life that can be seen as light only when contrasted with darkness. Now, I'm rambling, and it's time to begin. I'll open with these questions and the lamentations of my disjointed memory. What do I remember and why? And more importantly: why do I not remember what I have forgotten? 2:59 a.m. - 2003-10-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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