January 10- The Story and Introspection

It's a diary, yes, but is it a lie as well? Even in our diaries we worry- I worry- that there we are refining ourselves into something our future selves will find impressive, and that they will think in their flying cars and swimming chairs that they were jolly good people, way back then when they were us. That's why we can never read them once we become the future- our past lives may be embarrassing enough, but nothing is quite as bad as discovering our past ideals.

A story is worse, as it pretends. In its grasp it leads us to believe that its thoughts are our thoughts, that its chain of logic has a command that is more than the writings of the dusty and dry, that a man can be heard more if he talks in riddles and wears a hat. When it is at its worst -and here it is- then the writer too may come to believe in his own story, like a father imprisoned in the jail of his child.

And so I think it is better that a story -this story- remain in the open like secrets and infidelties and all the other things everyone should be told about. In the cold light of day it can be humiliated, and against the might of other minds its conciets can be reduced. If nothing else it can help a man become his future self that bit sooner, so that when he cringes at what has come before at least there are no wrinkles on his face.