6 June, 2025 10:03

Previously I wrote that perhaps Mr Blank [myself] is not a real person, as one might say an unreliable narrator. However – a real person is typing these words, and as "some" say, truth is stranger than fiction.

Fiction is often used to talk about truth, true situations, dramatizations, alternative "historic" fiction. The people [most] of the characters were actual humans that [many] are familiar with but obviously the conversations "recorded" in the book are fiction – because the writer was not in the room, nor in the head of the people he or she is writing about.

In fact we cannot accurately write what is in our *own* heads ! Our minds move / breath if you will, more rapidly than we can express via typing….and when people try to write in a stream of consciousness style…they are often called crazy. What I am trying to get to is it actually impossible to capture reality – hence fiction, and also why Mr Blank is how I will go about trying to describe what happened about less than 1 hour ago.

It was so recent that the sheer fact of what transpired seems hard to say I cannot express what happened. Meaning it should be relatively easy to describe what just transpired.

Before I – I mean Mr Blank goes into the wild situation and conversation at the garage – which if I really had to, I could attach the receipt to prove at least on some level a garage was the location. But alas, we have already within the last few minutes of universal time developed "machine learning" that could replicate the receipt.

So perhaps Mr Blank being a fictional representation of a real person is the best way to conveigh a very real story.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Mr Blank at the essence has anger / emotional "problems". Classic ADHD and perhaps even a dose of autism.

The anger is the worst part. Pills and therapy are … small band aides, short crutches that push a person through a day. Therapy perhaps depending on if you ask the therapists is far better than yet another pill.

Yet perhaps combined?

Part 3.

Mr Blank lives in the real world that is actually at war. A real war. He is not fighting nor never was in any army. If you were to *really* sit and ask and have a free hour he would lecture you about the wastefullness and ineptude of war. At his core he is what is often called a peacenik. At other times and more regularly by more people a fool / idiot and other *kind* words we’ve all decided are fine to throw at others.

This is despite that the Torah has a clear story at the beginning – one might say "genesis" … that says that we are each others brothers keeper! And not to get angry! And that murder has consequences – even if one does the mental gymnastics to justify killing another human. What about Hitler? You will scream! Are you saying you would not kill Hitler???? Or if someone was running at you to kill you, are you not allowed to kill first [also in the same Torah, is a provision about self defense]. To which Mr Blank would have to concede that yes, sometimes perhaps not rare enough one can kill another human.

Part 4.

So living as a fool who yearns for peace in a country in a war is a big [understatement] hardship. The entire being of Mr Blank is broken and he is not involed nearly at all in any aspect of the war. It is one of the challenges of being overly sensitive – too emotional and apparently wrapping inside a tornado of anger.

At the garage waiting for his car to also get fixed.. . .. was a man named Yair. Perhaps I should give him a fictional name? But his name [and family name] came up in conversation that happened. The conversation that Mr Blank is trying to get around to sharing – since it moved him greatly.

The garage, the workers, the other people also waiting, the entire almost hour and half …with time away from the garage also waiting but at a nearby location, seems something out of a story a now long dead [but not that long considering the scope of the universe] would sing about. Mr Blank mentioned that Rabbi to Yair. And of course even though Yair parents were originally from Iraq and he said his father was a communist[!] knew *exactly* which rabbi Mr Blank was referring to.

The entire story was a song – broken down man who is lost, angry, and mamash upset at everything. He is a massive failure in so many ways, has to get his car fixed .. because well, 1x a year or every 15,000km we are told to do this. Also the oil light when on. Basically – the tinfoil hat crowd would say "open your eyes". The signs were always there. A new filter, check your spark plugs — wake UP!

After nearly a half an hour of sitting with Yair…and somehow opening up to a total and utter stranger who does in fact exist, as does the garage, — there is even a receipt. You can’t make this up?? Or …

You never know…. you never know…

Guitar comes in, a heavy accented voice says from outrealms…. chevre, open your hearts.

And then the car was fixed – 200 shekels, and then having to wait what seemed another half hour [probably ten minutes] … the other cars were moved, and now you are left with another Mr Blank story.