BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I know a lot of Wendys…

I realize that’s kind of odd, but throughout my life I have come to know several Wendys. Or, in one case, Wendi. There’s also Wendie, as in Wendie Malick, but I don’t actually know her. I’ve just seen her on TV, so she really doesn’t count.

And, these Wendys are all across the board as to personalities and professions. There’s a blond Wendy who was a Flight Attendant for TWA – remember them? TWA, I mean, not Flight Attendants. Although, I could certainly wax nostalgic about how Flight Attendants used to be Flight Attendants, and not psychopathic hall monitors who seem to think they are Air Marshals. In any event, I have no idea what TWA Wendy is doing these days. I haven’t seen her in years, but I did use to joke with her quite a bit and call her an Airborne Waitress. Fortunately, she had a good sense of humor about it.

Then there’s small Wendy. I have no idea what she is doing, or what she grew up to be. I met her shortly after I graduated high school. My dad and I went on a hiking trip in Colorado, and we had set up camp in a public – but little used – camping area halfway up a pass in the Rockies. Small Wendy and her parents were camping in the same area, albeit several sites over. She developed a crush on me because she thought I looked like John Denver, and would come over to our campsite whenever she saw us out and about. Her parents even sent her over with leftovers from their dinner – they had an RV with a kitchen – because they felt sorry for us having to eat freeze dried rations.

And, there’s “Mistress Wendi”. That’s where the Wendi with an”i” shows up. That’s not her real name… Well… Not when she’s just being her normal self. It’s more of a moniker attached to the alter ego of a friend. Based on the honorific I’m sure you can figure out what she does for fun. We’ve been friends forever, and she was an invaluable source of info when I was researching the Miranda novels.

There are others, but I don’t want to bore you too much. I mean, all I am doing is rambling about women named Wendy. There was, however, a particular Wendy in my life who wasn’t exactly a friend. She also wasn’t exactly an enemy. She was, for lack of a better description, a thorn in my ass. I have no clue what happened to her, but I think of her often, believe it or not. Well, maybe not often as in often. More like whenever I am startled by something and jump out of my skin.

I was all prepared to write the story of why this happens to be when I received notice that one of my recent workshops, which had been videotaped at an event, was now online. I was watching it to see how it came out and lo and behold, there I was, right there on the screen telling the story about this particular Wendy in order to illustrate a point. So, rather than toss a whole ‘nother mess of words out there, here it is, from my lips to your ears.

(Video Courtesy of Spiraling Up Video Productions)

Moral of the story?

Don’t let your guard down around anyone named Wendy. Especially if she has a roll of Scotch Tape in hand…

More to come…

Murv

There is this absolutely tremendous song by Chip Davis and Mannheim Steamroller. If you own the CD/Album Fresh Aire II, you’ve heard it. If you’ve ever been to one of their concerts, you’ve heard it. In fact, they always play it at the end of their concert. Why? Because, they are going to another place on their tour…

Yeah, I know, “Duh, Murv…”

The thing about this song is that I really love it. In fact, I will find myself humming it often. I’ll even “Guy Sing” it… You know what I mean… That thing guy’s do with songs where instead of just humming, they hum, sing, beat on the furniture,  do vocal sound effects, and generally make an entire show out of humming a song. You don’t see women doing that, as a rule. Just guys. But, I digress…

You see, there’s another facet to the song. It’s bittersweet. It has a great arrangement, it’s catchy, it’s even upbeat, but it means the concert is over. It means the end is near and they will be moving on.

Right now, in my own way, I am tuning up for Going To Another Place.

The fact is, I am living in another place right now. A world that somehow coexists with what everyone else sees as “the world.” It is a place inside my head, and between the pages of novels that are penned by my public alter ego, M. R. Sellars. The thing is, whenever M. R. goes to another place, he tends to take Murv with him, at least for a little while.

Right now, M. R. and Murv are hanging out with some folks that some of you know. There are even some folks there that none of us know. They are in a fictional place, which to them – all of them – is completely and utterly real. Things are happening. The pace is quickening. And, the “end game” is upon them…

Soon, it will be over. Time to pack up, say goodbye, and go to another place. For Murv, the other place will be this place.

M. R. will hang out with the other folks for a while. He always does. But Murv will come back here. He will be shell-shocked, exhausted, and depressed. He’ll miss the folks in that other place. But he’ll get over it. It just takes a little time.

Of course, when M. R. comes back a little while later, he’ll ask about the people and get depressed all over again. And then, before long, M. R. will go off for a visit to the other place again.

Soon after that, Murv will get a call. It will be time for him to pack his bags and go to that other place, so that he can start the music all over again…

Cue Chip and the gang…

More to come…

We hope.