It sometimes seems that that story is approaching its
end. Lest there be no more telling of stories at all, some
of us out here in the wild oats, amid the alien corn, think
we'd better start telling another one, which maybe people
can go on with when the old one's finished. Maybe. The
trouble is, we've all let ourselves become part of the killer
story, and so we may get finished along with it. Hence it
is with a certain feeling of urgency that I seek the nature,
subject, words of the other story, the untold one, the life
story.
It's unfamiliar, it doesn't come easily, thoughtlessly to
the lips as the killer story does; but still, "untold" was an
exaggeration. People have been telling the life story for
ages, in all sorts of words and ways. Myths of creation
and transformation, trickster stories, folktales, jokes,
novels...