Where Ya Been All My Life?

Chapter Nineteen

Tall Cover No Text_edited.jpg

“I dunno, Stan. Maybe we’re only our own constructs constructing what seems our idiotic selves. And each of those so-called selves, of which we all have more than one, may see everything–including itselfs–drastically differently.”

"But we can't be totally different from others or ourselves?"

“No. We’re bibliological orgasmisms, amongst other thangs. But whatever that means, it means limits. Very few of us think we’re aardvarks or lawn chairs. But then again... Sometimes I think I’m a nematode. Hit the road, Jack.”

“Right, Abe. Sometimes I think trimp is a Vogon.”

Page breaks in this preview do not coincide with the pagination of the published book

“I dunno, Stan. Maybe we’re only our own constructs constructing what seems our idiotic selves. And each of those so-called selves, of which we all have more than one, may see everything - including itself - drastically differently.”

"But we can't be totally different from others or ourselves?"

“No. We’re bibliological orgasmisms, amongst other thangs. But whatever that means, it means limits. Very few of us think we’re aardvarks or lawn chairs. But then again... Sometimes I think I’m a nematode. Hit the road, Jack.”

“Right, Abe. Sometimes I think trimp is a Vogon.”