FORWARD
I feel like telling a story.
Please understand that the telling of this story is only intended
to satisfy my desire to tell, er, write some story; to give in to
this compulsion. Your satisfaction or dissatisfaction with it, then,
is your own business. If you fall asleep reading it, then obviously
you don't want to read a story as much as I want to write one. You
want, apparently, to sleep, instead. That's not my fault, all arguments
of style notwithstanding. So don't blame me.
That word "me" is intended to convey a conceivable form from which
might originate the voice implied by the words written, that is, typed,
here. You knew that, I bet. Sorry.
I shouldn't have said (written (typed)), that is, used, that phrase,
"conceivable form," should I? Excuse me, you have no way of knowing
that, do you? I mean, the formulation "conceivable form" implies
conversely the existence of an "inconceivable form," doesn't it?
I'll answer that one for you:
"Why, of course it does, yes! Another biscuit?"
Language, being the crude conveyor it is, doesn't readily lend itself
to the representation of an implied existence of an inconceivable
form, does it? I mean really, words can only go so far. Do I sound
confused? Are you confused? Am I asking too many questions? Allow
me to answer for you again, since your mouth is full of crumbs:
"How insightful! Exactly! Too many questions altogether! The nail,
as it were, on the bean! Jam?"
(Stop grumbling.) To get this, er, stuff in my head to replicate itself
in your head, when "you" are only some conceivable form which may
or may not receive with any understanding the messages intended to
be conveyed by the sounds represented by the blots meticulously slathered
here is quite a challenge, after all.
How am I doing so far?
"So, anyway, what might constitute an inconceivable form?" you may
well ask. Or not. But let's suppose you do.
Would it be something theoretical, like a straight line, perhaps?
Something scary - "BOO!" - or mythical? At any rate, it would have
to be something unreal. Or would it? (Too many questions again, I
know.) But (pay attention!) reality is not constrained by the limits
of ignorance or invention, any more than ignorance or invention are
limited by the constraints of reality. (Are we confused yet?) On the
other hand (where?), what is referred to as imagination can and does
limit individual realities. If you cannot imagine it, for you it cannot
be "real". If you can imagine it, though, it can be "real." There
will be problems with this. I don't care. I'm calling the shots here,
so just buy the premise, or shove off.
Consequently, and this is the point that you have been hoping for
(or perhaps not): to tell (write) a story, one has to assume a very
large pile of commonly shared planes of reference. And planes, being
two-dimensional, don't stack into large piles in small numbers, believe
me. So, every bit of communication transported by whatever vehicle
between we two conceivable forms must rely on the sum total of the
entire history of our shared experience. Given this (which is, admittedly,
a lot), the replication of any understanding whatever from one head
to another represents nothing less than a miracle! i.e.:
"If you can figure out what I just said, it'll be a miracle! Two
lumps?"
I'm doing it again. I'm making things more complicated than they have
to be, aren't I? Really, when you read a word, you don't have to relate
it's meaning to the whole history of creation to understand it (I
bet you already knew that). Just between us, I don't do that myself.
There, the secret is out! And that's just like me all over: to go
to all this trouble to develop some arcane theology only to immediately
repudiate it. Go figure.
The whole problem is that my story is of no time, or place, that I
can describe or explain without inventing a new language and a new
way of conveying it. I admit it, I'm lazy. So sue me. I'll bet you're
lazy, too. Nyah. Just remember, when units are introduced, and they
seem to appear to be like something you know, that's just my translation
of the real conceivable forms of my story, allowing for those common
planes of reference. So, when you think you recognize something, don't
dwell on it too long; it probably has nothing to do with the actual
story. Maybe it rhymed, or just looked right next to the previous
word.
My best advice, applicable to an astonishing variety of situations,
is as follows:
"Never give advice."
Not following my own advice is, however, my usual course, and has
always proved its wisdom. So, I'm telling myself, as I write my story,
and you can apply this to yourself as well, of course (though I don't
advise it), as you read my story:
"Don't listen to me - and pay attention!"
Whatever that means.
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