I wrote that? Are you sure? How come when I read it, it feels like someone else wrote it? Are you sure? Me?
Why does this happen? How come sometimes, before I know it, another chapter, or another poem, or another short story is staring back at me, and I can’t recollect much about it? Am I possessed or something? Am I having an outer body experience? The one true thing I can always remember from the experience of writing things is when my emotions grab hold of me and spin me around in my pc chair. Several times while I was writing Sully Street, I was caught up in a multitude of feelings, rising up inside me like one of those eagles riding the hot air currents that rose up from the salt water flats, just off Route 1 in Whiting. It was an effortless emotional surge that grabbed hold of me and actually, on a couple of occasions, caused me to get up from my chair and leave the room, usually taking me across the kitchen towards a box of tissues, or into the fridge for a piece of chocolate.
Author’s Note: Chocolate does have a plethora of mystical healing powers, and can snap you back to reality quicker than the Westminster chimes of the doorbell.
Yes, that’s right, a box of kleenex, and please, stop laughing. Here I am, a two hundred and four score pounded blubbering, dusty, ragged billy goat of a teddy bear, crying over something I was writing. Is that normal? Am I normal? What the heck is going on?
Taxi! I’d like a ride back to 3rd and Sanity please, and thank you.
Like I was typing, writing this book was a step back through time for me. I continuously scoured the regions of my think bank to drudge up bits and pieces of my childhood. So many things worked their way out of my head and onto the screen, taking their place as those golden olden days of 1973 took shape on the streets of the novel. I found myself on countless trips back through the decades, ending up back in my Converse All Star canvas sneakers. Sitting atop my Schwinn Stingray bike, complete with the cards attached to the forks with clothes pins. Oh what a life it was, riding each day towards a sunset of boyish imaginations, swirling around, you guessed it, a head full of music, which has stuck by my side for all these years.
The movie that played out in my head as I sat in front of the pc became part of me, and I, part of it. I constantly tried to plan the actions of the chapters in advance, and quite a few times, I approached the screen with what I thought was a pretty well constructed plan, only to find my mind running off somewhere else as soon as my fingers touched the keypad. I don’t know why this kept happening, and I can’t tell you how it happened, but it kept on happening. I can honestly say that I was only able to think through and write one of the book’s chapters, and even that grabbed the seatbelts and buckled me in for the ride. That was actually the best chapter in the book, as even though I thought I knew where it was going, it took a left turn and headed straight towards it’s own destination instead. Crafty little buggers, those chapter gremlins, always doing just as they please, and thank you very much.
I do recollect as I was writing another of the chapters one day, I believe it was around the twenties or so, I had the most amazing experience happen to me. I was in an electricly charged section of the story when I felt a presence in the room with me. It was as if someone was standing behind me, looking over my shoulder at the words on the screen. I could sense their presence, feel their breath, and hear their heartbeat. I got a cold chill up my spine, along with a hair standing wave of current shooting from my gray haired, billy goat head to my Bozo toes. At first, I kept on writing, but within a dozen seconds or so, I had to get up out of the chair, and out of the room. I stood in the kitchen, looking back at the computer room, wondering what in the world was going on. Perhaps it wasn’t anything in this world? Perhaps there were entities within the bound chapters of my house that were happy to see the tale brought to life? Perhaps you all think I’m crazy? Perhaps I would agree? Perhaps I could use a cookie? Perhaps we should move on now?
Sorry, I’m back again. Man, that made me dizzy.
I have had a few instances in my life of strange, unexplained happenings take hold of me. I have felt the surges, the chills, the presence, the sensations, the thrill and chill that goes along with them all, and there simply is nothing like it. Every time it has happened to me, it has charged my battery for days on end, standing me up straight, only to firmly grab hold of my shoulders and spin me around. It’s as if, for a split second, everything seems in its place. It’s as if everything seems to be in the realm of possibility, and nothing is out of reach. It’s as if I am instantly transformed into the creation of the Twilight television series, and I am in the middle of writing the next episode, but I am also right there, standing smack dab in the middle of the next episode.
Maybe I should try clearing my head by catching the 3:35 for Topeka. Lotta good that will do. It’s probably a round trip ticket, and I’d end up right back here in front of the computer screen, wondering who wrote what I’m reading. Either way, I think I should be going. There’s a paragraph out there with my name on it.
Until next time, always remember, and never forget, no matter where you go, there you are, so please, pay attention!
This concludes this test from the Emergency Blogging System.