My Other LifeI recently read Paul Theroux’s My Other Life, which is an autobiography of a fictional Paul Theroux. What a novel idea to cash in on your multiple personalities. Heh.
It’s the first Theroux novel that I've read so it was hard to place the "events" of the book to the actual travel narratives that he has written in the past. The Great Railway Bazaar is a good example (which is referred to in this book). You see, he’s still Paul Theroux, writer of travel books and fiction, but everything else in My Other Life is a lie, sayeth he.
Wouldn’t it be fun to write a book along the similar lines, and throw in actual events that really happened to you but you could never admit to otherwise?
Like that time way back in college, you were waiting for a friend by the roadside, and a car pulled up the curb next to you. The car window rolled down and the head of an older chap with a greasy moustache popped out, and whispered a few choice words a good girl like you should never ever hear in your sweet lifetime. You were about to go into your usual feminist diatribe before kicking his car door with your brand-new Nine West boots but a naughty, suppressed thought suddenly struck and then, before you know it, you were in the car and….
I’m just saying. WHAT? That never happened to me. No sirreeee…
So I’m wondering… if I look like a sixteen year old (according to some sources), does it mean that I have a body like a sixteen year old? As in, I’m actually not in my mid twenties, and I have a second reign in life with my sixteen year old body but with my twenty-something street smarts (who wants to be a dumb sixteen year old again) which means it’s not too late to take up taekwando and kick some wicked ass like Buffy. Yes? Yes??