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by kubanczyk
1805 days ago
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You got me interested as well on "a multitude of people living inside of you". A model which works suitably for me is just the adult and the big child. The adult is writing this text. (Hey, after all he's the only one able to write or read!) The big child, is literally me as a child plus the sexuality that came later. (There's also an animal, but it is only noticeable in the most extreme circumstances. You know, table tennis and the like.) With this model it all boils up to the child being tricked by the adult. Yes, it is tempting to assume that the adult is "raising" the child, but no. Internally it feels more like the child needs to be tricked into compliance, then all gets well (i.e. the child is seemingly happy after it is shown its place). But, a multitude?... I have trouble imagining any more personas. I'm curious how does that feel like? Multiple "adults" at the same time? Sequentially? |
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From the movie "Memento": This explains it better.
Here's the truth: People, even regular people, are never just any one person with one set of attributes. It's not that simple. We're all at the mercy of the limbic system, clouds of electricity drifting through the brain. Every man is broken into twenty-four-hour fractions, and then again within those twenty-four hours. It's a daily pantomime, one man yielding control to the next: a backstage crowded with old hacks clamoring for their turn in the spotlight. Every week, every day. The angry man hands the baton over to the sulking man, and in turn to the sex addict, the introvert, the conversationalist. Every man is a mob, a chain gang of idiots. This is the tragedy of life. Because for a few minutes of every day, every man becomes a genius. Moments of clarity, insight, whatever you want to call them. The clouds part, the planets get in a neat little line, and everything becomes obvious. I should quit smoking, maybe, or here's how I could make a fast million, or such and such is the key to eternal happiness. That's the miserable truth. For a few moments, the secrets of the universe are opened to us. Life is a cheap parlor trick. But then the genius, the savant, has to hand over the controls to the next guy down the pike, most likely the guy who just wants to eat potato chips, and insight and brilliance and salvation are all entrusted to a moron or a hedonist or a narcoleptic. The only way out of this mess, of course, is to take steps to ensure that you control the idiots that you become. To take your chain gang, hand in hand, and lead them.