Everything changed for Ramone when he discovered his multiples — THE ORIGINAL PUNK BAND. At least that’s what the google machine told him. And as he listened to hit after hit he rediscovered familiar sounds from his childhood. Soundtracks from movies he would never remember. Dances his memory would never be able to locate. But it is there, it is real. He could sing along to song after song even though he had no idea where or when he had learned them.
And it didn’t matter.
Because somehow, he was not only Ramone the high school drop out, or Ramone the failed entrepreneur, or Ramone the eternal drifter.
He was somehow linked to this seminal group of guys. And as he started to discover the mystery of the gaps in his memory he started filling the gaps with a past he never had. Or at least a past that he possibly just couldn’t remember. Who is to say? When all is said and done, and no-one was around to witness it, who could argue that he was lying? Why not invent a past he could be proud of? Or at least live with? Memory seemed to be fluid — or at least pliable.
It wasn’t until years later when he couldn’t distinguish faces anymore, or find the route back to his heart, that he realised why playing with the past was a dangerous game.