This blog, truth be known, is my legacy.
Like Roy Batty, (robotty?), in Blade Runner, during the infamous tears in the rain rooftop scene, I know what it’s like to let experience slip away into nothingness.
And yet, one only has to read the Wikipedia entry on Herodotus to understand my hesitation.
One would think that the criticisms of Herodotus would be eliminated by context, and yet, allowed to stand they erode the very foundation of what is essentially personal observation.
“Quite an experience to live in fear, isn’t it?”
Fear of critics? Of being misunderstood by idiots?
Yes. To both.
My survival as an organism depends on not being misunderstood. And, life being fragile, I tread carefully.
Hesitation causes loss.
What has been lost in my hesitation is incalculable. Not to toot my own horn or exaggerate my own importance, lol, I’m just a homeless dude, wandering. But to hesitate in expressing one’s self is a tragedy all its own.
And for what?
That’s laughable. What the fuck do I care about being socially acceptable? I live in the woods!
…well, when I’m not in town enjoying the fruits of a semi decent society.
What it comes down to, for me, is process.
Do you know that story about Ganesh transcribing the words of Vyasa?
Blogging is something similar. If I capture it, fine. If I have to rebuild it, my working memory isn’t up to the task. And I don’t want to ruin this by over thinking.
By putting myself in the way of the thing.
Memories are a function of stress.
(But let’s not get into acetylcholine and norepinephrine)
Editing is something separate from experience. Important only for narrative structure.
At least now I know why spandex in the rain is my fashion choice.
That sounds sufficiently crazy, let’s leave it there.