Hipolito, The Writer.

I’m not sure what the proper psychological definition is, but there is clearly a phenomenon in which you are so attuned to something — a word, a number, an idea — that you consistently see it everywhere. A gentle obsession. Pattern recognition. Déjà vu, all over again.

As the fail fast concept has been this white whale of mine (only since, approximately, February 1998), I have seen the idea in many places, and there have also been a great many of you who have generously shared your own references to this theme with me.

Last weekend, I was flipping through the endless enumeration of cable channels in an idle moment and landed on Amélie, the great JP Jeunet film of 2001. Here’s the dialog from the café scene I happened to catch:

Joseph: Cram it, failure!
Hipolito, The Writer: Failed writer, failed life… I love the word “fail.” Failure is human destiny.
Joseph: It’s gasbag time!
Hipolito, The Writer: Failure teaches us that life is but a draft, a long rehearsal for a show that will never play.
Joseph: I bet he stole that.
Hipolito, The Writer: I do have some original ideas, but people always steal them.
Hipolito, The Writer: Same as your women.
Joseph: Meaning?
Hipolito, The Writer: You’d better get used to it.

Outside, the first real snow of the year is falling. Pandora is playing some randomly beautiful song. Another sip of coffee, naturally, as I work on my draft life, my rehearsal, my destiny.

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