radiolab - who am i? - book 3
DESCRIPTION
This book is an experimentation in the taking of a radio podcast (Radiolab Ep1, Who Am I?) and converting sounds and ideas in to the book form. In this episode of Radiolab the depths of the long asked question "Who am I?" are explored. This project to me to approaching the audio translation in a scientific/structured way, through which I tell all the stories and communicate the ideas. Separated into three books, containing the three Acts of the radio story, as well as the introduction.TRANSCRIPT
chapter i haven’t been myself lately
MY NEURONS
THE LEAKYSELF
THE BLUE FLANNEL
3 still plunging deeper, and gaining pace toward the end of our time here.
we will examine a story where a man loses his ‘self’ and takes on the ‘self’ of his late father.
THIS WAY UP
where am i?where can i find myself?
LOOK CLOSE UP
x 1,000,000,000,000
LITTLESYNAPSESOF JELLY
OVER A TRILLIONNEURONS
flashing & pulsing energy.
this is what creates thoughts or ideas: the collective *snap* of these little neurons.
INSIDE YOUR BRAIN
THE GREATESTILLUSION
THAT YOUARE ONE ‘THING’
–ONE
‘SELF’
ARISES
HI
you are always plural
you are always plural
YOU
1x
YOU
500,000,000,000x
YOU
1,000,000,000,000x
the self the self
*the self is not a berlin wall
*the self is porus, and it has leaks
FATHER & SON
IMAGINED
FATHER
SON
the father as he got older, had a condition that resembled alzheimers.
and he began melt into the son. he would tell stories that were really the son’s stories.
SANFRANCISCO
SAN DIEGO
he imagined that he had come to america, and he says that he remembers seeing the golden gate bridge. which is strange considering that it wasn’t built at that period in time.
the son had been in san diego at a period in time, and the father, because of the time he spent there in the war, could create confabulated stories.
the edges of him spilling over into me, and it made me feel claustrophobic.
it was after he had died that i found myself doing the same in return.
SON
IMAGINED
FATHER
he would arrange his forks and knives like his father had done.
he would humm a yiddish tune like his father.
he would wear his father’s flue flannel.
and he had to carry around his fathers nitroglyceryn bottle, because of some odd compulsion.
HE COULD NOT LEAVE
THE BOTTLE, HE HAD TO
HAVE IT.
on some level, i was saying goodbye for him, to an auditorium of wash-in twenty year olds.
in time of extreme emotional challenge, the boundaries slip a little bit.
it is a lesson, amid our ever expanding array of scientific labels of over- pathologizing.
FATHER
SON
