I must have been a sight walking home after writing today. Exulting about what I'd written, I was talking myself down and through it. Making sense of what I'd written, I talked aloud, sometimes laughing. Thinking of how this must look, this man trudging home with his computer bag slung over his shoulder, talking to himself and laughing, inspired more laughter. I thought, I've been writing like crazy. Now I've written myself crazy.
I'd seen the scene coming from afar but it's like an approaching storm. The sky was darkening, the wind rising, and the threat's smell rode the currents but I just didn't know how it would be until it arrived. This scene swept me up and blew me out and sucked me away. Talking to myself in the aftermath - the afterbirth, the afterlife - I kept thinking, I wrote about a life in a life in a life and another life in a life. I wrote about two people in the same body, one in their past and future existence and the other in their present life. They had their own memories and agendas but had only the one body. Each was involved in two chases so one body was involved in four chases happening simultaneously. The story was being told first person but since the two people shared one body, I ended up writing I said, he said, he said, I said, as they took on opposing views of one another.
It all came on fast, hard and suddenly feverish. I struggled to keep up with the complexities. Watching me type then, what people must have seen as I grit my teeth and urged myself hold on, have faith that this is working, write, write, type, until I slumped, limp and spent, rubbed my eyes and temples, and said, "No mas."
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com