Reading the second volume of Clive James' "Unreliable Memoirs", Falling Towards England, I keep thinking how entertaining a memoir of my own would be to those who've never kept the kind of company I keep, who've never done the things I did. I have seen some things, as Raymond Carver would say.
But then I start to wonder...Did any of the things I think happened actually happen? And as for the ones that investigation proves to have happened, did they happen in the way I remember them happening? Was person a. really the person I presumed him to be? Did he act for the reasons I assumed?
I have developed conditioned responses to all the situations that occur in my life on the basis of presumptions about things that have already happened to me. But maybe my presumptions were wrong.
The only thing about my life until now (and beyond) that I'm fairly sure of is that the common denominator in all of my experiences was a bit of an arse.
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