You know it: countless conversations in a week—short conversations with countless others. So,
who are you, relative to all of that, specifically?
There’s no way to know, because (1) no one person records it all; and (2) who’s got the time anyway
to congeal so much?
But an interesting thing is—as tropes go: There’s no given puzzle picture (the singularity of identity) which puzzle pieces—all over a table, say—fit to make. Not that there’s no singular identity gener-ating all the pieces; but the pieces, altogether, don’t provide sufficient basis for comprehending the generative identity.
But what do biographers do? And researchers, journalists, etc.? And autobiography? So many reflections, so little time.
Believe it or not, I archive nearly every comment that I post to news articles, choosing only to give such time to a few major media. I like Disqus, via the PBS News Hour, because that provides an automatic archive. But that’s just Disqus. I have no idea how large is my own archive of other stuff.
It’s larger than the Disqus archive.
Who is “Gary E. Davis” online? He’s an uncongealed, unconcerted nebula. Who is “Habermas”? Who is “Barack Obama”? Et cetera,
One dies, usually leaving only narrative potential to so many pieces, if not actual narratives—the diarist, the memorist—let alone known legacy (opus of the proper name). How many lives—flowers, species, sensibilities—die never known
to have lived?
It’s the fate of life in the universe, you know—each galaxy speeding faster and faster away from each other.
No biggie! The days are lovely, all in all.
And no grand narrative about it all would likely be read well anyway—because we are the busy species.
I’m busy enjoying life.
I do not dread that it can’t go on forever.
So, I’m not yet ready to newly post more than ephemera.
Yet, the enjoyment of it all is gathering into
a cohering that will be fun—albeit difficult
(a discursive manifold)—to share.
Lest you guess I’m jesting, just you puzzle.
Next update: February 4