Many of my projects are behind me by now. My painting project was completed a couple of years ago, but I still keep writing about it. The few remaining selections from my Residua are close to completion, as well. Although I will keep working on my magnum opus, its size and shape are already clear. And so is its purpose, which is to provide me with a coordinate system for my own navigation. Most important, my projects have little if anything to do with my fellow humans. At best, I hope that they will leave me in peace. If and when I come across a kindred soul, so much the better, but miracles remain miracles. And that is that. With some luck, this is my last autobiography, too.

Addendum I (October 20, 2016)

I am happy to report that my liberation earlier this year has indeed put an end to this particular line of writing. Autobiography, what autobiography? If yet another one ever appears in my magnum opus, it will signal an unexpected and unavoidable crisis. I cannot even imagine what could cause it, for crises of this sort are perforce beyond our ken, but I cannot exclude such a possibility. At any rate, I am out of this world. Out and away. For this reason, my writing is all over the place as of late. Helter-skelter. Random to boot. Only the addenda diligently follow my development all the way to liberation, as well as beyond it. And this is all I can expect in the foreseeable future. Till death do us part…

Addendum II (December 4, 2017)

Having come across this autobiography among autobiographies entirely by chance, I feel my lips pucker and my chest swell. If I ever come up with yet another autobiography, it will be only to poke fun at myself. Reading this piece and the first addendum, I cannot but feel the urge already. Self-defiance, or what? To wit, not even I am entitled to boss myself around! At any rate, if another autobiography pops up among my writings, it may well be nothing but a loud fart. A thunderous fart, as a matter of fact.

Addendum III (January 28, 2019)

My last autobiography crosses my mind every once in a while. The word “last” has a special pull, no doubt. When it crossed my mind one more time a short while ago, I immediately searched for the word “autobiography” on my Residua website. The results surprised me, for they stretch from 1979 to 2015 with a bewildering gap between 1999 and 2013. Perhaps the only addition to this formidable cycle is a recent chronology (“Ranko Bon: Chronology,” December 9, 2017). Although it is far from an autobiography, and although it verges on self-ridicule in its benumbing starkness, the chronology offers yet another taste of my life’s progress. Looking back, I cannot but find it nigh ludicrous. Indeed, the only imaginable purpose of yet another autobiography would be outright self-mockery. Would that poking fun at oneself were not such an alluring pursuit!

Addendum IV (November 26, 2020)

After yet another stumbling upon this particular piece in my magnum opus, and stumbling is definitely the word, I am regaled with a sweet little smile. Indeed, if one more autobiography would ever come to the fore, it would contain nothing but one word only: “Pffft!” It would sum up so many years of hard labor and myriad tangled emotions, indeed. Luckily, the wish to come up with anything of this ilk is farthest from my mind at this stage of my life. Which is why I felt that one more addendum would be justified so as to wrap this piece up for all times. And here it is at long last. Autobiography, schmautobiography.