I've Subsequently Become Conscious Of Making Memories.

I Guess What I Find So Interesting About Memory, And Its Role In A Person's Identity, Is How The Attempt To Achieve Accuracy Requires You To Remove Yourself From Your Life In An Authorial Manner.

I Spend Far Too Much Time On Ebay Buying Lamps And Upholstery Remnants.

I Go Through Life Now Reminding Myself To Remember Something, And I Do This While That Something Is Happening. I'll Be Experiencing A Moment And I'll Say To Myself, "remember This!" Otherwise My Whole Life Just Blurs By.

As Such, Anything Is Always Possible, Even If Your Protagonist Is A Plumber. But It's The Possibility, The Limitless Possibilities, Of Any Fake Life, That Make Writing About It So Challenging.

I Wont Deny That I Have A Far More Productive Writing Life Without The Internet, Mostly Because I Rekindle My Ability To Concentrate On One Thing For A Period Of Longer Than Three Minutes. My Curiosity Is Channeled Inward Rather Than Internet-ward.