film noir for the brain

i have a friend named marty. he is retired from the political lobby, reads non-stop, and is from new mexico so i really enjoy when he comes to visit. he reads to the blind every week. very altruistic. yesterday marty told me about a friend of his. this friend is a play-write. he has a project going that is really curious. he is keeping a personal history and catalogue of his thoughts. i don't know how long this has been going, but i got the impression it's a long-standing tradition for this man. ok. so you are thinking "what's the big deal?" well, the deal is that this man is doing this project without the slightest notion of self-censorship. think about it. recording the darkest, most personal, inappropriate, shameful thoughts to even make a pass through your mind. we all have these moments when we think, "oh, my goodness. that is so wrong. where in the world did that come from?" the friend is rightly afraid of anyone finding his chronicle. apparently, only his brother knows where this collection is hidden; and he has sworn to retrieve and destroy the works immediately after the author passes on. i imagine it as something like the myriad composition notebooks found in john doe's apartment in "seven."

i think if i were to attempt an experiment like this i would be frightened of discovery. obviously, it would be very awkward to have another person read these most intimate thoughts; but self discovery would seem to hold the most frightening potential. what would my brain be capable of producing if the unmentionables i currently notice weren't censored, but were instead documented? the optimist might say not much would change, but i think i know better. as pastor maclean put it," man by nature was a damn mess and had fallen from an original state of grace."

so, here's to my old friend superficiality. you'll always have an open seat at my table.