Adam Blatner

I’m afraid I’m profligate—er, no… promiscuous? wrong word. Un, precocious, preternatural, portly? No. I do expressive myself a lot, though, through many channels. Check out my website and especially the section on confabulations. The latest one is relevant to current events, I think.

To confabulate is to make stuff up. One then may or may not be somewhat convinced that what has been thought, imagined, is really true. Or one may be more or less aware of the made-up nature of what is perceived, thought, imagined—and of course that’s my whole point. It’s a spectrum!

When you’re little you play, you bring together stuff that’s really happening with stuff that you’re imagining, and that juxtaposition is funny, because it sort of is and is not real. There’s a little tickle-wiggle there.

Later you pretend play and it’s fun because you realize you can sort-of do and be much bigger, faster, stronger, more grown-up, and into all sorts of things you can’t do in “real life.” What a great idea!

Later you learn to stifle all this as puny and childish and learn to act in theatre parts created by someone else who knows better, and truth be told, the product is smoother, more impressive, and when others play this way, what comes forth is more polished!

But the making it up yourself part is lost, alas. Wait! You can still do it. First you have to authorize yourself! You can do this just by knowing that you can do this! Poof! You are now THE authority who gives permission to celebrate your own creativity. Wow!

Now you can imagine whatever, a diploma, a certificate, a medal, a rank insignia, as officially a creator. It doesn’t really matter whether you’re first or second or seventy-seventh class! Nobody has worked this spectrum out yet and one of the rules (if you like) is that no one can! You are what you are, no one is better, and you can make up stuff as much as anyone. Is that uppity or pure innocence? You decide!