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What's in a Name?

By

George S Geisinger


My doctor diagnosed me with selective amnesia awhile back, so I try to exercise my memory as much as I can. I want to remember everything I can about my life, because there's a lot of what happened to me that I'll never remember again. I used to go into blackouts, when I was drinking alcohol heavily, and especially when I smoked greens. For those of you who don't know, greens are parsley flakes treated with PCP. PCP is horse tranquilizer. The horse breeders use PCP overdoses to kill horses. It makes less of a mess than blowing the horse's brains out with a gun. I burned a lot of brain cells that way: getting drunk and smoking greens. The cells in my brain that knew certain things are just plain dead now, so I've lost those memories. Now, I do my best to remember just about everybody's names who come around me. That's for starters. I exercise my memory that way.

Mine is not such an ordinary life, after all. I'm careful to avoid being boring when I write. I want to be as entertaining as possible.

Would you not want to read what I write if I told you I was not well? If I made up a character who was a psychopath, you would not want to put my book down from cover to cover. The author develops a perfectly wonderful character to threaten and put in harm's way, and then the author comes up with a psychopath to make matters worse, by threatening the innocent one, the wonderful one. It's supposed to be entertainment. I don't think it's the slightest bit entertaining. I think it's awful. I've been hurt badly enough I don't like to read or write about getting hurt.

I've got a different story to tell. I'm one person with a whole gaggle of illnesses. It's almost like I've been studying medicine, but I'm not a doctor. It's not the main character that's sick, it's the author. My life is not in any imminent danger, though. I promise. You don't need to worry about that. If I did die while I was writing this, you would probably never see the story. It would just become another unfinished story in another used-up, second-hand laptop, and that's just about all it would be. Besides, we're all going to die of something, eventually. Nobody gets out of this world alive, you know. We all die, sooner or later. That's about as morbid a thought as I can come up with.

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