It should be easy, my friend said, to imagine yourself a character in a novel you particularly like, like I’ve found myself in any number of Tom Clancy novels, since I can easily become a CIA agent, it fits me.
I know I’d shoot myself in the foot or worse, and I’d keep no secrets if you even threatened to torture me, and the odds of me finding my own Doctor Watson are slim, harder still since I abhor even the thought of opium, and I gave up my pipe years ago when the girls found it odd or disgusting, not the cool I sought.
So I’m left with being a young Japanese woman negotiating life in modern Tokyo, or the countryside, but I’m nit sure Banana Yoshimoto would buy me as her protagonist, so I suppose I could do a quick deep dive into ballet and try and pass for Shimamura, but I know I’d opt for Yoko and that wouldn’t suit Kawabata at all
Come to think of it, I have a hard enough time being myself, and even as my own author, I find that I would never accept myself as my protagonist, so that role is still available if you would care to audition.
He often comes to me in dreams. In most he is faceless, but intently present, speaking in a voice I instantly know, nothing like mine and totally mine. On occasion his face appears, blurred, as if seen through a scrim, back-lit, vague, an actor in some film I have seen, but yet not that person, that character. For a while I saw my own face, but I knew that was just my wishful mind filling in a gap which has yet to be filled, knowing that it likely never will.
My shelves grow heavy with volumes of words I wish I had written, neatly bound up in books that stare at me, at once bidding me welcome and challenging me to enter. One shelf is set aside for books of pages, blank, on which I have written each day now for three and a half years, words I did write which, on rereading, I often wish I hadn’t. I could write in pencil erase later in the face of regret, but the pen seals failure and, I am sure, helps build character, which I have in excess
He is fond of the name Alejandro Carlos Ernesto Rodrigo Guttierez. The fact is he loves the name. He knows it has a certain nobility to it. It embodies and conveys strength and character. It is a source of pride and great satisfaction. The name makes him taller, bolder. There is so much in a name, that name in particular. “Vinny,” his mother shouts, “Vincenzo Balducci, come down here and take the trash out, your chores come first around here young man. He is not at all fond of the name Vincenzo.
He is fond of the name Alejandro Carlos Ernesto Rodrigo Guttierez. The fact is, he loves the name. He knows it has a certain nobility to it. It enbodies and conveys strengh and character. It is a source of pride and great satisfaction. The name makes him taller, bolder. There is so much in a name, that name in particular. “Vinny,” his mother shouts, “Vincenzo Balducci, come down here nd take the trash out, your chores come first around here young man. He is not at all fond of the name Vincenzo.