Writing the stories you want to
read. A novel idea. And the devil is in the details and tis easier said than
done. But we all write our stories, even if free will is an illusion. I would
like to tell you ‘illustrious’ is formed from ‘illusion’ but I would be
fibbing. Still, seeing as how it is post-truth era and all, we write our own
stories. Free from bias, genetics, nature, nurture, prejudice, all that nasty
shit. Free as free can be. Then some.
So freely write your story. While
you are at it, freely live your life; heck, then write your story. The order
doesn’t really matter; as long as both are done freely. Free is an important concept here as you have probably
picked up on. How doubly sweet would it be if the concept aligned with reality?
Awesome sauce that would be.
Forget about that for now. Forget
all about that Debby Downer reality nonsense and live it up. Live it down if
you want, or sideways or caddy corner or b-line or waaaaay over there if you
want. Live live live, live live. Beats the alternative am I right?
I am. Right.
Unless, reality matters. Because, I’m
just spitabllin’ here, how can there even be a right if reality doesn’t matter
and we are post-truth?
But if reality doesn’t matter then
can’t we say that death is better than life? No because we are dead and can’t
say anything. You are one astute fella.
Dead men tell no tales as they say.
But if you watch enough crime shows, and I know you do, dead men (and women) do
leave clues. Be it under the fingernails or some sort of substance found only
under a neon glow stick of some sort.
This sure has been a long road to
tell you to live and write your life. So simple. Isn’t it? Simple?
