You never asked me to be truthful. I got an email asking me to contact you. I found it to be an extraordinary coincidence that I was here in Hawaii on vacation and you asked me to contact you and you were where I was. I wouldn’t be a Bokononist had I turned down your invitation. But as a Bokonist, I don’t have the same relationship with truth as you do. “Anybody who doesn’t see the value of a book based on lies won’t see the value of this book either” begins the book of Bokonon. I told you, I tell stories for a living. I was riffing.
I wrote the bit about the letter before our first exchange, but the rest was just riffing. You invite we to converse about a guy named Bucky. I’m a huge fan of Bucky. As a kid, I interviewed Buckminster Fuller, who many people called Bucky. Everything I said about Bucky is basically true, at least to his spirit. I just wasn’t speaking about the Bucky that you were thinking about.
I have been concerned, almost preoccupied with when this would happen, you would accuse me of being full of shit.