there’s a slant to the spine, see?
that’s how you know this other creature
isn’t me…
a fabrication meant to cater to the whims
of every other person who seems to have
a problem with the way I like to do my things —
if there’s a point to all this madness,
it’s to suggest that the surface isn’t really real
people can walk your walk
and can talk your talk, but in the end
they aren’t you…
they are a dupe — a fraudulent inhabitant
of a space, a form that ignites the impression,
evokes the sense of recognition
somewhere in the fusiform face gyrus
of any local idiot!
a fool that might have at one time
or another come into contact with you —
or me, I mean — so be warned or rather
be wise, so wise so as to fail to be unaware
that the pedigree of this, this,
this academic emulator, is a beautiful lie,
a jockey of compulsion, a tragic sentient spy,
natively running routines, and organically
computing phrases, structuring syntax
and assembling sentences and linguistic mazes
in the bitter and unself-conscious language
that ultimately, and finally isn’t ME —
so, get this clear, I’m not him,
don’t you see? I’m just the imposter
and he’s the imposter meticulously designed
to look and act and speak like me
Garbage Notes:
This poem is about imposter syndrome. And it has two sources of inspiration. Some of the visual imagery is drawn from a David Cronenberg film that I was watching at the time—it’s called eXistenZ.
eXistenZ is a wild, trippy (and at times very gross) sci-fi action movie. It’s probably one of the more underrated speculative films of the 90s. It was definitely overshadowed by some of the bigger films of that era which contained similar themes, like The Matrix for example.
Jude Law is awesome in it. The plot is fast-paced and at times confusing, but its high-concept philosophical ideas are unmatched. It has quite a bit of body horror in it too, which you’d expect from Cronenberg.
Overall, it’s maybe a headier take on the whole virtual reality concept, with various twists and stages of recursion. You’re never quite sure who or what is actually real at any given moment.
The other inspiration for this poem came from my own library of work. I wrote a speculative fiction story called Academic Emulators, which ended up being published in Funemployment Quarterly back in 2022. I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s basically a science fiction take on what it’s like to have imposter syndrome, and the story itself contains both literal and figurative imposters.
As writers, I think we all feel like imposters sometimes. Even when we accomplish great things, we start to wonder how much luck has to do with it. But when we question whether or not we actually deserve to succeed, that’s when these emotions can get more toxic and can prevent us from living our best lives.
If you work hard, have interesting things to say, and you say them in your own unique voice, then there shouldn’t be any qualms about being an imposter. Keep on doing what you do. Keep on sharing your compelling vision of the world.
Take this chance to remind yourself that it doesn’t matter what other people have to say about who or what you’re trying to be. You aren’t an imposter—your successes are real and tangible. Don’t forget that.
Franco Amati 2024
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Well done! Great read Franco! This poem has a deep connection to our current state of affairs!
“…somewhere in the fusiform face gyrus
of any local idiot!”
A LINE FOR THE AGES!!!
“…a jockey of compulsion, a tragic sentient spy,
natively running routines…”
SIMPLY FANTASTIC!!
I’m 71 and I have reveled in the role of imposter for my entire life because “Momma, that’s where the fun is!” There isn’t any “real me” to know. It’s all just a dress rehearsal for whatever role I assume at that moment. I name-drop with impunity to puzzle the chumps; it’s the ultimate!
I adhere to the philosophy of T. F. Hodge when he so wisely remarked, “When you're way too real, fake people be like: "You're a trip. I want somebody with real game (lies).”
https://youtu.be/vFe-p1gbKEc?si=hw1-B2bUgXDLtow-