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 May 28, 2009…
But it was long ago and it was far away, oh God itseems so very far, and if life is just a highway, then thesoul is just a car…
(1993) Album notes for 
 Bat out of Hell II: Back into Hell 
by Meat Loaf [booklet]. Virgin (CDV2710 - 7243 839067 27)
 
There really is no other way to begin this other thanat the beginning.What began as a series of notes, a collection ofsheaves, a treasure chest of memories and dreams has becomea labyrinth of undiscovered territory. Whetherscribbling’s, sketches or photographs, I have cleverlycollected them all and deposited them here for entire worldto see. Where they may lead, their final purpose, whetherdeviously plotted or sheer random chance, is yet to bedetermined or perceived, I leave it to you to draw your ownconclusions… to decide if I am merely mad or mistaken,bitter or just benign, harmless or the worse kind ofmonster…
 
And to think, how it all began with the simplest ofthoughts… What is it about putting ones memories down onpaper that makes them so real
1
?There is something to be said about childhood, withall its vivid imagery, conjured experiences and commonthemes. Are they real or are they Memorex, our childhoodmemories… true experiences or stories that we have repeatedso many times to ourselves, that like the mythic fable orfairy tale, we begin to believe in them?On the other hand, what is the truth… that which weremember or how it truly was? And after so many years, howcan we really tell the difference?Rest assured, that what I am about to tell you is theabsolute truth… at least as I remember it.I could not have been more than six or sevenyears old. It is the middle of the night.
1
 
The Freudian model posits an area of the unconscious where memories of traumatic experiences arestored. These unconscious memories are claimed to be significant causal factors in shaping consciousthought and behavior. This model is not consistent with what is known about the memory of traumaticexperiences. There is a great deal of supportive evidence for the claim that the more traumatic anexperience, the
more likely
one is to remember it. Carroll, Robert T.
Memory.
The Skeptic’s Dictionary,1994
 
 
I’m setting in the car with my Mom. We’vejust pulled up outside a little no name diner inthe middle of absolutely nowhere. The stars inthe sky are diamond cut bright. The only othersources of light I see are a solitary streetlamp,yellow and clouded with insects, and the screenedback door of the diner. (I think the dinersclosed for the night as the parking lot iscompletely empty.)When we finally get out of the car I amholding on to my Mom’s right hand because I’m toolittle to be by myself. (Speaking of Mom, she’sall dressed up, smelling great and is pretty muchthe most beautiful woman I have ever seen.)With not a word spoken between us we walktowards the long portal of light at the diner’srear, its wash of yellow and clatter of pansspilling out across the night. When we get therewe stop, still as can be, silent as two churchmice. Hand in hand we watch Dad; he’s wearingfaded blue jeans, a white tee shirt, with thesleeves rolled up, and one of those dorky whitepaper hats on his head. There’s a hand rolledcigarette tucked behind his left ear and he’s
of 00

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