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Saturday |
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Kurt Vonnegut has long suggested that a writer needs to write for an audience of one. In his case it was his sister, until her cancer death at 41, the loss of that lone required reader leading to his only clunker of a book, SLAPSTICK. Eating ribs and genetically modified corn on the cob (which tasted like wet dry wall) in Sarina's parents' uncluttered house, it occurred to me why I have been doing Picture of the Day (POD)--it is an instruction manual for my future clone(s). It is for you, my twin(s), that I write this, so that you may enjoy the natural advantages of your physiology with the benefit of the experience of one who has lived in the same body. I know you won't be me, per se, but this wedding of the idealogical and corporeal is as close as we can get to immortality on a budget. So, please, pay attention, learn from my mistakes, and try to live better than I did. |