Warm Recollections #21
More from the Bitz Files
As introduced here, these Warm Recollections are random cullings from thirty years of notes files…
It doesn’t matter how you see yourself inside your head. People are behaviouralists. They believe what they see. You need to maintain two separate performances, outwards and inwards.
One of the truest things ever said:
“La vie contemplative est souvent misérable. Il faut agir davantage, penser moins, et ne pas se regarder vivre.”
Nicholas-Sébastien Chamfort, (1741-94)
I always want to be in every Yellow Cab I see. Who’s in there? Where are they going? Are they drunk, nervous, furious? Does one of them have a secret, or the start of a cold, or something important in their pocket? How did they start this day? How will they end the night? Is this a fizzy, chaotic first date — or will it turn out to be their last? I hate the fact I’ll never know… but I love it too. Every cab holds infinity.
Interesting thing about faith [this is old ground for theologians, I’m sure]. You never see God. At most, he is revealed through his works. Yet faith can be so very strong. You believe in spite of the fact or maybe even precisely because you don’t see. Don’t show the monster in a horror movie, and as a god, don’t reveal yourself to mankind. The connections we yearn to believe in are far stronger than those we actually see. The human mind is the strongest creative force in the universe, and drinks its own Koolaid: the unreal is far more real to us than the real.
You can’t keep every shell or pebble your child gives you: but how do you know which is the magic one?
As always, if you can think of anyone who might enjoy this Substack, please spread the word.
What a collection. A yellow cab travels east, a hidden god in the back seat, a small pebble warming in the hand in his coat pocket. The driver glances in the rear view mirror and sees a tired grey man, an accountant perhaps, on his way home in the rain to a small suburban house. Maybe he has a cat. There are cat hairs on his black coat. Another yellow cab travels west, passing the first, and a hidden monster sits in the back. He laughs with the driver, having just shared an amusing anecdote, and the driver glances in the rear view mirror and fails to see the evil lurking inside the good Italian suit and wearing a handsome man’s face. Maybe he is on his way to a cocktail party, where he will pick up the pretty secretary who is new to town and whose body will be found in the park tomorrow morning. As the cabs pass, the monster waves to the god, who cringes as he is recognised, knowing that he may not be equal to the evil that stalks the city’s inhabitants. His pebble feels comforting in his hand.
I love the thought of something important in their pocket! My head took me to some strange places😆
Ummm what does the French thing mean? I can't find a translation anywhere. Or is that the point...🤔😵