Loo who, zuh herr
©2004 James Hilston
thine own self be true."
was a fool
as I might to flesh out the above Bardolatrous maxim, I deceive
myself all the time. I think I'm doing it this very moment as
I type these thoughts. So don't expect to read much that is actually
true of me. My wife would read this and say, "Who is this
you're writing about?"
At the very least, this
vain reflection of my greatness might prove to be somehow cathartic.
If even morbid curiosity doesn't compel you to continue reading,
please, feel free instead to have a look at the artwork, photography,
ephemera, or essays.
and the bad
me start off by saying I've done a lot of rotten and repugnant
things in my life. And while it may be of benefit to those closest
to me to know and understand what they are, most of my bad behavior
has either hurt or somehow adversely affected other people, and
need not be put on public display.
to me anyway, we are the product of nature and nurture.
I can look back on my life and point to a number of pivotal events
that made a difference in what I've become. But what am I really?
How am I defined? By my profession (I'm a journalist, artist,
web designer, aspiring mind-reader)? By my worldview (I'm a compatibilist
determinist inerrantist persuppositionalist theist)? By my station
in life (middle-class, married, father of three)? Or by my genetic
makeup and unique biological, physiological, emotional and intellectual
got to be all of the above, but it appears to me, especially after
having three children, the larger percentage of who and what we
are is the result of genetics, and not environment. Maybe I can
convince you by what follows. Maybe not. Really I don't give a
rip either way. If you're inclined to proceed, I hope you will
enjoy some random musings about the life heretofore of one James
2. Death (to come)