“Pinnochio Heart.”

I have been trying to find a way to encapsulate the essence of my book, which should be finished by xmas.  I guess I'm going to need to describe it to people if I want anyone to read it.

 

So...what's it all about?  really? 

 

the thing is about the same size as salman rushdie's booker prize winning first effort, & not so easy to sum up in a few words...

 

But something happened over the weekend that comes pretty close to getting to the core theme...

 

I met this woman in town over the weekend.

At the market.

She had a dog.

 

I stopped & patted the dog, and we got talking.

About…some dog related matters, and some not.

 

After a little while, she looked straight at me, and she asked me if I would like to have dinner some time.   That’s pretty bold; I don’t get asked out often.

I never did.

 

I told her I don’t really date anymore…

& the silly woman asked me why.

I told her, it was because I used to have a problem with the truth.

 

Now I have a problem with lies.

She looked puzzled.  “What do you mean?”

 

So I told her a few years ago, I took some time off from being with women, because I couldn’t tell the truth.  I mean, I mostly could, but I noticed that lies tended to creep in, and I wasn’t sure why.  & in particular, I couldn’t understand why this happened mainly with woman. The lies just…crept in.  I didn’t ask for them…they simply arrived, like cops at a party.

All uninvited like.

While you’re trying to have fun.

 

So…I took a year off dating, so I could figure out what this lying crap was all about. 

I took that year…then another year, and now in my third year…

All of a sudden I find I cannot tell a lie. 

 

It has gone to the other extreme. 

The moment I am about to tell a lie…

I can see it about to happen…

& I get these awful heart palpitations.

I feel like I am going to vomit.

 

I told her this.

 

What the hell, I have nothing to lose.

By telling her the truth.

& it is good practice, telling a woman the truth, and observing what happens. 

 

She thought for a moment, and she said, ‘I still want to do it’.

We talked a little more, and she told me…she was a cop.

Of all things.

Can you believe that?

No.  Me neither.

& I also can’t believe she stuck around for any more of this.

& then I thought to myself, ‘What the fuck does a cop want with a man who can only tell the truth?”

Things must have changed radically since I left the force.

 

The thought of an honest cop made me nervous. 

Just when you get used to cops being one way…

I’m not sure I feel comfortable with them being something else entirely.

But then…I suppose change is possible. 

I was pretty sure I had changed…& I’m not really sure yet whether it is for the better or the worse.

But this is how you find out.

 

I said to her…  “Look.  I’m not joking.  I really can only tell the truth these days.

& it can be a REAL problem.” 

 

“Why?”  She asked.

I replied, “People say they want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but let me tell you something; when it comes down to it…that is not true.

People cannot stand the whole truth.

They can’t handle it. 

I know from experience.

 

I live alone, with my disease that makes me tell the truth.

I don’t have any friends left, because I tell the truth.

It’s just the way it is.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind.”

“You say you don’t mind now…” I assured her, “But you will. 

If not now…

Then further down the line.

 

Sooner or later…

You won’t handle the truth.

& I will upset you with the truth.

I observe myself to make sure I tell the truth, every time I open my mouth.

Every minute, every hour, every day…I make sure what I say is true.

& it causes problems.”

She said, “Do you mean THE truth, or YOUR truth?”

I said, “Is there a difference?  MY truth is the only truth.  It can only ever be the only truth.  The way I see the world is the only absolute truth, because no matter what I see, or what people tell me, it is still filtered through my own perception.  My own prejudices.  My own programming and conditioning.  I’m quite old now, and this is unlikely to change. 

In fact…there are some physicists who say reality is merely a projection of what we see inside our own consciousness.”

 

All of a sudden…I got a headache. 

If it’s not the heart playing up on me…

It’s my head.

 

I said, “I have to go, I think I’m getting a headache.”

She smiled. “So am I.”

 

So, she gave me her number. 

And asked me to think about it.

 

So I’m thinking about it.

 

Or rather…my heart is thinking about it.

 

I can only guess what the fuck my head is doing…

 

Looking for the absolute truth at the other end of an infinite & unpredictable universe, I guess…