Dear Friends to Whom I May Owe a Lifelong Apology,
A funny thing happened to me on the way to the library the other day; I noticed, thinking about an article I'd read on a study they'd done that proved no one had an innate 'sense' of direction, for the first time, that I was a veritable fount of trivial information. Beyond just trivial, out-moded, even disproved knowledge. Possibly even false-at-this-point-in-time information.
I had thought, in the years gathering this knowledge, that it was what we were supposed to do, as humans: we were to collect, learn, gather as much info about ourselves and our environs as possible (role model: Mr. Spock?). I also thought it might come in handy 'someday.' This, of course, is sublimely silly, and not just because we carry pocket computers all day everyday. The silliness is well illuminated in something I read in Stanislaw Lem's Mortal Engines: The Pygmelliants, Hoarders of the Absolute, "...collect knowledge, but never use it"...which is how they remain unparalleledly wise.
The deployment of all this (trivial) information may not be wise, even if it could be described as learnèd. Which simply means all the things that I know, the things I am forgetting, are just as well forgotten. (Ah, sharp readers, yes, another circle!) Having the sense to know when to tell it and when not to is something I should have been honing as I collected all this stuff (which, sadly, can't just be sold on Ebay).
What I propose to do now, is to apologize for giving this information out, here and there, now and then, all along: Opps, my bad! No one likes a know-it-all anyway, and that's not trivial knowledge, that is a kind of truism, that we all know somehow. Until the next gaffe, be well!
PS
Affirmative, you should read it; it makes your mind better and your writing sweeter, and it never needs winding.
