Tuesday, January 22, 2019

Yrik Max Valentonis - Autobiography


She tried to write her autobiography. But could only write the word “the”. This fustrated her a great deal since she knew that she had lived more than just that. For years she thought about what she had done with her life and the people that she had met and influenced. Continually she worked on her autobiography.



The the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the e the the the the the the the the the the the the the



She eventually consulted a novelist whom was mentioned by a mutual friend. The novelist was well known and respected, even though she had never read any of his books. They sat and discussed writing and literature, the topic of her autobiography was brought up and the difficulties she was having with the word the.  He informed her that he too was having word problems, and feeling limited by his previous books since all he could write was the word “it”.


It it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it it



Together they visited the novelist’s editor at the publishing house. In discussion with the editor, it was found out that she could only cross out the word “which”. Since neither book had the word which in it, but only the and it, the editor offered them little relief.


Which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which which


The autobiographer and the novelist in the spirit of camaraderie and the liking for each other that they had developed, went to an artist’s reception at the local gallery. While there, they spoke with the artist about his work and future projects. The artist talked vibrantly about the arrow. When they asked if he did anything aside from arrows, he glared at them peevishly and excused himself from their company.


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They encountered a poet there, also attending the artist’s reception. The poet spoke with them about the limitations of writing and the difficulties in communication. The poet admitted once having tried to find a broader vocabulary, but in the end returned to contemplate and appreciate the beauty of  “whence”.


Whence whence
whence whence whence whence
whence whence whence whence
whence whence whence whence whence whence
whence whence whence whence whence whence
whence whence whence whence
whence whence whence whence
whence whence

                               whence whence
whence whence
whence



There is a reader who is reading this story and she can only read the word “she”. I wrote this story for her, but I can only write “that” so we are left with an incomplete story where no one is fulfilled by it.

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