Some might ask: why a memoir? Is it possible to talk of the past? How do you pronounce memoir? Why do we always think that French words are so cool? I don't know. Even in my native Sudan, French is cool. But, you specifically ask, why now? Why tell us what your life has been now? Do you plan to kill yourself? Run for office? Make love to an animal? Dear Reader, the memoir has nothing to do with any of this. Forget about these parts of my life. Forget about the inncident with the late former President Nixon. Forget about my wearing diapers on 20/20. Let's concentrate on the matter at hand.

By writing my memoires, I am not writing. Nor am I reading. Nor am I watching TV. I am the writer and I am the reader. So, I guess I am writing and reading then. But in doing so, I am debating being and thinking non-being; at the heart of which is the term being and the sound of being which brings us to how is being non being and in which case? All this I probably won't touch upon in my memoir. But I thought you should know. And to be honest, I like saying memoir.

And why the Internet? Will my writing become another drop of water which falls into this vast ocean of non-knowledge? Who will read this? Should I put a counter on the page?

Along with the memoir, the Internet is supposedly dead. Now, people are talking about the rarely used Synchonet. Will it replace the Internet as the main artery of the information superhighway? And if it does, can I get a free web page there as well? And how do I get there? And who am I? And who wrote the book of love?

So, dear reader, there you have it. An introduction. And I am still upset that neither Charo (an old flame) nor Al Gore agreed to write it. I am left to write my own introduction. I might as well write my own epitaph. Read, read. Don't let me stop you. See how I went from Heaven's Gate to Yellow Dog magazine. It's quite a story, I'll tell you. Anybody have some pop corn?