Process of Elimination: Unknowing People

“What’s left to get rid of?” McNulty asks.

Ideas. Commonplace notions. Sentimentality.

“Flaubert took care of that with his Dictionary of Received Ideas. Even your model for these columns, Flann O’Brien, embodied these in his character, The Brother.”

O’Brien, ah, the closest of my unknown friends. It proves my point that you don’t have to see your friends. They’re out there, at any moment they can enter your life. They aren’t celebrities that you search for.

“That sounds like a knock on Pellatier.”

A knock on his obsession to meet the person behind the Sardine persona. I’m not sure who that is, myself.

“If he found you,” McNulty reasons, “he might have found another persona. That’s why he didn’t approach the Man Who would be the Sardine at the end of the book.”

Why not resist the pursuit of the famous? And that includes famous places.

Logged-In Public: You don’t have a Bucket list?

The Sardine keeps a mental un-bucket list: places I don’t want to see and things I don’t want to do before I die.

“I’ve never been to the Sistine chapel,” says Joe. “I’d like to go there.”

Good choice. Don’t forget to visit my sarcophagus in St Peter’s, the Pope interjects.

The Sistine Chapel would be high up among the places I never desire to see again.

That’s getting a little too personal. Does my presence here annoy you that much?

Not at all. I said “again.” The first visit wasn’t bad. But when Melinda and I went there a few years ago, it was a horrendous experience. Signed up for a tour group. Stood an hour outside in 95 degree weather while the guide explained what we would see on the ceiling. That was the best part. Inside, walking up the spiral ramp for 15 minutes, never seeming to get to the top, we lost sight of the tour group. Melinda’s bad leg slowed us; we didn’t realize there was an elevator available.

Did you get to the chapel?

Jammed in with hundreds, maybe a thousand others. A moving line. Look up and you bump into someone. We found a bench against the wall.

Then you immersed yourself into the magnificent artistry of Michelangelo.

No different from the first time I was there when there weren’t so many packed in the place. I could barely see anything except the broadest picture.

God-Fearing Public: It must have so moving.

Could barely make out God and Adam’s fingers nearly touching. And a headache started. Getting hotter with the thousands filing by.

You could’ve paid for a private tour that took you up to the ceiling.

Better to check it out in an art book.

“I’d still like to go,” says Joe T.

“What else don’t you want to do?” Frank asks.

Ideally, the un-bucket list should be reserved for experiences I’ve not had previously. I’m not sure I even want to think about what I don’t want to do.

“I haven’t been to Vegas,” says Joe T.

L-I P: What haven’t you done?

Skydiving. Shot a machine gun. Ridden a horse.

L-I P: Where’s your sense of adventure?

Never had it. Rules out going to any country near the Equator.

“I’d go to Disney World one more time.”

I don’t want to meet anyone, either, famous or not. In fact, the process of elimination means “unknowing” a person or persons once acquainted with the Sardine.

L-I P: How can you un-know someone?

Avoid them. If they’re on the other side of the street, don’t attempt any form of recognition with the eyes, the body, don’t slow down. Driving by them, don’t honk the horn.

G-F P: This sounds very un-Christian.

After a time, it should sink in consciously or unconsciously that the Sardine doesn’t want their company. Hopefully, this leads to their not wanting to know me. In the future, ideally, when passing them on the street, no acknowledgment surfaces and the names are forgotten.

“I can forget names without not wanting to know them,” McNulty says.

“I’ve had this experience with girlfriends,” Joe T says, not necessarily informing us anything new.

Usually, the un-knowing occurs on one side of broken romantic relationship.

“Dare I say,” McNulty snarls, “we’ll all be on the other side of this process of yours.”

I suppose the answer is yes.

Honey burst into tears, as did Frank.

Don’t worry, my friends, I won’t be so hard-hearted.