Boomtown Rats: the point of truth is there is no truth. Yes, I really was in a band that opened for Guns 'n' Roses. Yes, I really did work for MSNYU on September 11, 2001. Yes, I really did blow my early retirement on a Thai lady of ill-defined repute. Life isn't stranger than fiction. Fiction is limited by the writer's imagination. Life is limited by imagination, individual and collective, but also physics.
Hey, so my break tags are well formed now. Old dog learns new. Or maybe just behaves according to knowlege. True dat
The truth is terribly mundane. Nothing mystical, nothing magic. Except the fact that we're alive but that's practically incidental, isn't it? Obviously, you wouldn't be suffering through this incomprehensible, pointless drivel searching for truth otherwise, wouldja now? No fan of Scientology I, no fan of religion with a big R of any sort but I like the idea of the audit. I guess confession serves a similar purpose. Whatever blows up yer skirt. Take a good look at your life. What's the truth? Can't you find it summarized in macro- and microcosm absolutely everywhere? We're all unique. So we're not.
Pop culture. Merka's greatest export? The Simpsons? This essay's title. -I call the big one 'Bitey'. -God bless this rocket house and all who dwell within this rocket house. -I've tried nothing and I'm all out of ideas.
Good writing is good writing. Talking to S about Barry vs. Lorca. Doesn't really matter. In the long run we're all dead. But make hay, do. And the closest we ever really get to truth is the absence of intentional lying. What really happens is interesting enough. If you make fiction be kind enough to label it as such.