Sunday, March 25, 2007

generations balance end

Ricky Montalban was a goofball. Somehow he survived puberty and eventually, woke up in his studio apartment in some city at the age of 30 and realized he had achieved something special, a sustainable lifestyle with the barest minimum of responsibility.

Ricky wrote books, he did not own a television or a radio, occassionally the police would visit, claiming he must pay his radio taxes. He would invite them in to look around and predictably, they would not find a radio and go away again, but they would be back, in case he changed his mind.

Ricky had his food delivered, although he did not own a computer or have something as sophisticated as an internet address, his neighbour one level down kindly set up the service for him and Ricky simply paid the delivery boy in cash once a week. Ricky did not vary his purchases.

Ricky was not a recluse, he wrote all over town, in libraries, museums and when the weather was good, on park benches, he would take his handwritten notes to a typist who worked for a percentage of his sales. Ricky was good enough to work as a stringer for many magazines as a supplemental income in addition to what he earned off his own respectfully successful books.

Ricky kept many plants in his apartment, the air was always fresh.

Ricky did not believe in the examined life, his writing was outward directed, pragmatic, relevant, topical, observant.

Ricky did not write about himself.

One day, nobody noticed it, but Ricky had been replaced by an android.


Anonymous said...


Are you talking with to yourself (subconscious etc.) or to the other person?

What had happened that your decided to write about it?

Anonymous said...

Of course I was thinking about post from 18.03

Bulent Akman said...

In answer to your question, it is arguable that the stories we tell ourselves do register at a subconscious level, I suspect everyone of telling them stories barely beneath the level of detection. I wrote the story because I admit I often catch myself telling myself such stories and then thinking about how I think about them (the stories) the involuntary affect they appear to create within my psyche. In other words, I suspect that self talk is a kind of validation, let me call it a confirmation, because often it isn't the most advantageous stories I tell myself, but the most comfortable, until the moment when I recognize I'm taking some unsustainable benefit from them and in semi-voluntary fashion, get started on thinking about my way of thinking and from there I'm reasonably successful in telling myself a more useful story. To put it concretely, if two people can't agree on what happened at an accident, what hope for history? Therefore I've concluded that what happens in my personal history is less important than how I chose to frame it. An old yarn but it works for me.

Bulent Akman said...

typos and all...catch them if you feel good about it!

Anonymous said...

Acctually, I realized that it was a stupid (ill-considered) question.... That was a long day

Bulent Akman said...

Feel free to ask anytime, it leaves me free to answer. Enjoy!