BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I was going to call this “It’s Just An Egg Sandwich…”, but then I had one of those moments of inspiration. Either that, or gas, I’m not sure which. In any event, I’m hoping Kurt Vonnegut will forgive me for throwing down some massa-cree on his title. After all, I did use the short version*. That should count for something.

So it goes**… Why was I going to call this entry “It’s Just An Egg Sandwich…”? Well, that’s fairly simple, actually. Mostly because I happened upon the idea of writing it while I was in the middle of fixing myself an egg sammich… On whole wheat… With cheese… And ‘mater. Kinda makes you hungry, eh?

So it goes…  The whole egg sammich thing was one of those, “Oh yeah, that again… maybe I should write about it,” moments. You know, sort of like Deja Vu, but not. Mostly because I don’t allow my deja to be vued.  It’s way too personal.

So it goes… I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich when it suddenly dawned on me that at some unknown point in the future I would be doing something equally mundane, but that I would just as suddenly flash on the fact that I had once been standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be thinking about this moment in time and wondering where all the time that was in between had gotten off to; whereupon I would then think about the fact that I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and… Well… I think you get the idea.

And why did I suddenly flash on all that? Well, because in the instant prior to that flash there had been another flash. Not the expose yourself kind, mind you… Although, in a way I suppose it was. Nope… This was another of those flashes in the brainpan.

So it goes… I was standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be doing something equally mundane, but that I would just as suddenly flash on the fact that I had once been standing there fixing myself an egg sammich and thinking about the fact that at some unknown point in the future I would be thinking about this moment in time and wondering where all the time that was in between had gotten off to, because I had just flashed on something I had done in the past that was equally mundane while having the very same sort of thought…

And… So it goes… My world falls in upon itself like a shattered mirror, reflecting back what was, what is, and what will be.

Maybe I should change my name to Billy Pilgrim… But then I’d have to get killed by a gullible moron – of course, that’s Kurt’s story, not mine…

I think maybe I should just keep writing. It seems Kurt and I have a lot in common where style and satire are concerned. Hell, we both even have critics that hate us because we don’t follow their rules, and you know what? That suits me just fine… I bet it did Kurt, too. I’ll ask him when I get to the other side. I suspect that is a ways off yet, however, I’m willing to bet I’ll by lying there in my bed thinking about the time I was fixing myself an egg sammich and flashing on the thought that I would one day be doing…

So it goes…

More to come…

Murv

* The actual full title of Slaughterhouse Five is: Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty Dance with Death.

** “So it goes” is a commonly repeated expression employed by Vonnegut in the book, Slaughterhouse Five.

Okay, I’ll be honest, this is going to be one of those short and sweet postings. I’m up against a deadline – not right up against it, but it definitely now falls under Visual Flight Rules – so I’m not free to “blawg” like usual… Still, the title does have a bit of a dual meaning.

1. I’m off in the land inside my head where I am not necessarily me. I’m just some random cluster of glial cells that happens to be taking notes.
2. There’s another place out on the web where people might think I am me being someone who is not me, but in a real sense of the word is actually me. But it’s not.

Make sense? Nope… Doesn’t to me either…

Let me see if I can explain –

As far as number one goes, I’m writing. I have a manuscript deadline to meet. Of the two, I think that was probably pretty self-explanatory.

As to the oddball number two…

There’s a blog out there called Ripped From The Pages…

RFTP is a blog (duh, Murv, you just said that), and it is written by characters – primarily Felicity O’Brien – from the Rowan Gant series of novels. It details things going on in their lives outside the boundaries of the books. Some folks, quite understandably, have assumed that it is me penning these entries.

Well… It’s not. Now, I know I often speak of merely being a stenographer in the world of my characters, and yes, I still maintain that position. However, in this particular case I am not even the stenographer behind the prose. As it happens, a dear friend, fan, and co-creator of the “Official Unofficial M. R. Sellars Fan Club – Murv’s Stalkers” is the voice behind Felicity and her blog entries.

So that we are clear, YES, these blogs are officially sanctioned by me, and I do see them prior to public release. I also provide some of the pictures that are used (though not all, by any means)…

Why am I telling you all this? Well, you see, here’s the thing. Sometimes folks will leave comments on the blog addressed to me. I don’t always see them unless “Felicity” tells me about it, or I just happen to surf by there. “Felicity” has pointed out that she is writing the blog, and not me – however, I am willing to bet that many are just assuming those notes are from me being silly – or  personality dissociative…

Well… It’s not. There’s a “Felicity” behind “Felicity” on Ripped From The Pages… And you know, sometimes she even fools me…

More to come…

Murv