In my humble opinion, I would think that one arrives to Suicidio a little unsure about himself. It is not my case, of course, but I am an exception, an anomaly amid the load of suicides converging on Suicidio.
I must without delay clarify that I am not going to Suicidio for the obvious reasons, but simply as an insightful spectator, to measure its distances and profundities, to collect fauna, flora and ethnographic specimens, to gather testimonies of the locals; in short, to amass a tremendous amount of information with the ultimate objective of synopsizing the reasons, needs and arguments that can explain the existence and perpetuation of Suicidio. One dreams about eventually turning all such material into a book, a sociological masterpiece, most likely to be published by the University of California Press, otherwise deserving an outright acceptance as a commentary or brief communication in the Southern California Journal of Sociology. The whole expedition should without a doubt be praised as “most worthwhile,” but if my results turn out to be even half as thought-provoking as I expect, I may end up producing a piece of work that should become a cornerstone in Sociology, Anthropology and even Psychology.
My name is Jonathan Trupp. Family members call me John and a couple of friends outside academia Johnny, but within the university system all of my professors and colleagues call me Jonathan. No exceptions. I think I would take it as an insult if they did otherwise along the corridors, classrooms or auditoriums of my ill-lit but acclaimed university.