Well, there's another one eerily similar to me, though I lost track of her several years ago. The differences were small, a matter of years, inches, shades and styles, or at least small enough that we could be mistaken for one another in dim light by fairly dim people or those who didn't know us very well. The similarities went as far as eyeglasses and last initials.
Upon closer inspection it was decided that I was the evil one, or at the very least the sinister one. We were both, however, the Other one, and that's remained a useful enough identifier for me.
A fascinating aspect of this particular medium of communication is the tendency toward self-description in the form of lists. They are used as a description of the shadow self, an outline of person, a representation in two dimensions. We're filled in quite sketchily, mere dark opacity, when you compare the representation here to reality. The shadows are always in motion, a dynamic reflection of their caster, distorted by the shape of the waves, the ocean of information, on which they're cast.
I can't deny the attraction, but it feels almost as if it is not a description of hobbies, but a description of methods, in many cases: an explication of the shape of the net used by each of us in our own particular fishing expeditions. It shouldn't be surprising, I suppose, that a race with opposable thumbs usually defines itself through tools or careers.
This then is the puppet show, composed more of shadows than of solids.
The Other Gretchen / Flick
/ © 1996-1999 The Other Gretchen
Last modified: January 16, 2002 / email@example.com