I Don't Believe In God, But I

Well, They Each Seem To Do One Thing Well Enough, But Fail To Realize That Literature Depends On Doing Several Things Well At The Same Time.

I Certainly Believe We All Suffer Damage, One Way Or Another. How Could We Not,except In A World Of Perfect Parents, Siblings, Neighbours, Companions? And Then There Is The Question On Which So Much Depends, Of How We React To The Damage: Whether We Admit It Or Repress It,and How This Affects Our Dealings With Others.some Admit The Damage, And Try To Mitigate It;some Spend Their Lives Trying To Help Others Who Are Damaged; And There Are Those Whose Main Concern Is To Avoid Further Damage To Themselves, At Whatever Cost. And Those Are The Ones Who Are Ruthless, And The Ones To Be Careful Of.

When You Are In Your Twenties, Even If You're Confused And Uncertain About Your Aims And Purposes, You Have A Strong Sense Of What Life Itself Is, And Of What You In Life Are, And Might Become. Later.. Later There Is More Uncertainty, More Overlapping, More Backtracking, More False Memories. Back Then, You Can Remember Your Short Life In Its Entirety. Later, The Memory Becomes A Thing Of Shreds And Patches.

There Is Accumulation. There Is Responsibility. And Beyond This There Is Great Unrest.

We Live With Such Easy Assumptions, Don't We? For Instance, That Memory Equals Events Plus Time. But It's All Much Odder Than This. Who Was It Said That Memory Is What We Thought We'd Forgotten? And It Ought To Be Obvious To Us That Time Doesn't Act As A Fixative, Rather As A Solvent. But It's Not Convenient--- It's Not Useful--- To Believe This; It Doesn't Help Us Get On With Our Lives; So We Ignore It.