Three notes to self:
1. Time to re-read Great Expectations
2. Perhaps it is time to move to a camera with more than .1 megapixels
3. Time to expand my marketing skills.
Note to you:
Today it came to me that I read so many of you so very assiduously, and yet I feel that often I miss essential threads.
Sometimes I put one of you in NY, when years ago you moved to MA, or some such. Sometimes I read your elaborately-plotted lives and realize that I have questions to which you have answers if it were only polite to ask. I'm not really talking about
those matters of personal experience which only prurience would cause one to invade (not that I lack any degree of human flaw in any particular respect, but I like to think my flaws are measured and suitably boring). On the other hand, the exercise perhaps benefits from an element of unpredictability about the questions. I mean to ask those plot points which a courteous person would not ask for fear of seeming intrusive, out of place, out of reckoning, inattentive, or just darned incisive.
I rather like those odd UK parliaments with their Question Times. I propose to you something to which you may agree by entering a comment. I propose that you grant me amnesty to ask you a question or questions about your life that I would ordinarily feel too shy to ask directly. The "amnesty" means that I know, before I ask, that asking anyone a question about a novel rather lacks decorum. I also know that many of my questions could be solved by assiduous reading.
You are not bound to answer, and you are free, if you do answer, to answer obliquely. You'll see as readily as I do that
it will be more fun for you if you can be more revelatory, in a very public setting, but I don't want you to tell me something
you'd regret sharing. I am not encouraging you to tell me secrets, as secrets have this beautiful banality about them that
I do not always require of life.
Would you like to grant me amnesty to ask you a question or questions? If so, just type in the comments--I grant you amnesty.