Me

Doe, a deer, a female deer
Ray, a drop of golden sun

Me, a name I call the rational, conscious part of my brain. Freud called this the ego, or self. So what are the parts of me that aren't me? Do my subconscious thoughts share my existance, or just interact with it? Can I (being »me«) assume responsibility for the uncontrolled actions of my id and superego? And if this is »me«, then who the hell are »you«?

Me I Myself am the only me I know. You are always you but only I am me

I finally found that the force at the center of the universe is not me.

I am me and nobody i slike me!

'Me! I stay here of course. I always do.'

Tell me the truth about me and you!!

In Neal Stephenson's »Snow Crash«, he says that the ancient babylonians had tablets on which were written »me«, which were sort of the equivalent of computer programs for humans. Reminds me of Dawkins' term, »meme«, referring to a self-replicating idea. Perhaps if you infect the assoziations-blaster with enough of your memes, the assoziations-blaster will come to resemble you. I suppose it would be easiest to infect something or someone with your memes when they're young, before they've had a chance to encounter other people's memes.

I am, therefore I am. Me Myself and I.

When I wrote of the women in their dancec and wildness, it was a mask,
on their mountain, gold-hunting, singing, in orgy,
it was a mask; when I wrote of the god,
fragmented, exiled from himself, his life, the love gone down with song,
it was myself, split open, unable to speak, in exile from myself.

There is no mountain, there is no god, there is no memory
of my torn life, myself split open in sleep, the rescued child
beside me among the doctors, and a word
of rescue from the great eyes.

No more masks! No more mythologies!

Now, for the first time, the god lifts his hand,
the fragments join in me with their own music.