It’s really something simple, but somehow it gets complicated.  Vague pronouns on ideas taking the place of real, acute problems, and what was clear and true becoming lost in the details—lost in the specific memories of what you experience and how you feel about it afterwards.  It happens when you begin telling yourself how it happened.  Your shown as it happens, but then you got to tell yourself, and a different story appears—a different story of your life…  This is the story I’m telling of David Threnody—no cameras, no pictures of his real life, no daily dialogues, not even much action.  Instead what you get is hindsight.  A reflection.  The events of David’s life not shown as they’re happening—no story this way, along formulas and key points in the plot.  These details are passed over.  Because do you really need to know what David looks like?  Or Schultz and Johnny Tribout?  And what about military life and the base at Biloxi before America entered the war (David’s war experiences, his battle with the Goliath what’s next, the next subject to discuss)—and the prison where David was a guard—do really need to know what that prison looked like?  The lighting and the smells—the sounds of it?  Can’t you imagine?  Imagine a prison? Imagine David and maybe a little of who he was?  His story not the actual story.  Even if you’re shown it with skill—the major events of David’s life, each of them focused on in the environment in which you find them—that’s just one story, biased by the weight of fact—and depending on the skill it’s still nothing more than an adventure you’re asked to watch, nothing more than a well-written essay of a vacation, and you’re invited to imagine you went along too, the skill measured in how much it makes you feel like you were really there—a part of it, a part of David’s life, and the action of it.  And like that night at the roadhouse when Schultz decided to fight—details of the actual fight I find unimportant—the specifics of what was said and who took the first swing don’t matter to me.  But telling you how they felt about it, and why—that tells a different story.  It reveals character in thought rather than in deed.  It allows the characters to tell their own story rather than me telling it for them.  And more words go into it.  Contradictions and excuses.  The truth not in what really happened, but in the opinions on what happened told by the people who were there.  The trick to this making something simple complicated and then making it simple again.  Like a regular day—a regular day in your life and what pertains to business and what really matters.  Like how you feel when wake up and that decision you make to fall asleep.  Sometimes even things said you don’t believe in order to get to things you do believe.

This is a book of opinions.  Everyone has them.  And some like listening and agreeing while others wait for the rebuttal.  Some not listening at all.  Some not caring what you think.  Some thinking in the back of their minds just tell me a story, entertain me, and don’t be in love with sound of your own voice.  What makes you want to read this—this story of David and how I’m telling it—your willingness to listen.  And maybe you listen because you’ve heard of David Threnody.  Maybe he reminds you of someone, personally, or others have spoken his name and you recognize it.  You recognize it as a name you should remember.  Maybe you’ve even heard his music.  His life enough for a biography because of this.  Enough for me to write it.  Enough for you to read…

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