I stand here in the cool crisp morning air contemplating the words in mere minutes that will flow out of my mouth. As I exhale, the fog being created from between my lips forms into the silhouette of the animal crackers I used to eat as a child.
Head first. Always head first.
A smile begins to form across the fog bearing lips as I remember those good times I had as a child, playing with my imaginary friends, creating worlds in my head that could never be invaded by war or disease or famine. This is how I know I will be good at what I want to do.
You see, they've always said I have a good imagination. Impeccable in fact.
And that's why I now he'll love this thing in my hand right, help me get it published in fact.
Because it's not for nothing that I've been standing here in line since five this morning. That in conjunction with the confluence of people behind me that wouldn't know great literature if it opened itself up and stated reading itself to them, tells me that he'll see through the facade of all their "fakeness" and dismiss them as not worthy.
But me, he'll see it. That thing I have.
The sun is peeping out behind the tall buildings that surround the bookstore we are standing at. The velvet rope with a sign that reads, "Line starts here" keeps us in a vaguely organized mess outside the store. The sun enhances the outlines of the animal crackers that continue to make themselves known as they escape my mouth.
Most people wouldn't notice things like this. Most people aren't as aware.
It's 9:45. Fifteen minutes to go.
Suddenly a feel a restless push from behind me. The idiots at the source of the push are talking of things that don't interests me. Furthermore their obnoxious and boisterous behavior proves that they shouldn't be here in this line waiting, but somewhere else.
They're not worthy like I am. Fifteen years it's been. Fifteen years since his last public appearance, more than that if your talking about the last time he's actually come out to talk to fans.
The people behind me are proving exactly why. The din that comes from their mouths cause the never leaving headache that comes and goes in my head to reappear like an unwanted apparition. Sometimes I close my eyes and the pain subsides.
For a little while.
I turn back and look at the overanxious crowd and give the that glare. Lucinda, my neighbor says I give it ever so often. She says it's a look that would empty a room and it gives her chills when I do it and she really wishes I wouldn't.
So I give them a glare. One of them snidely grins back at me, sticking his tongue out.
I close my eyes as a sharp pain over takes my head. All I can seemingly hear at moments like this is pain. I can hear what pain sounds like. It's incredibly frightening but enlightening at the same time. Think of what the sound of a knife being stabbed into someone's chest should sound like. That's what I hear. I don't think many people have a concept of what this should sound like.
The pain subsides. I hear a conversation behind me. A grating accent that reeks of little to no education.
"I hear he's simply lived, holed up in his house up there for years. Him and a therapist. I hear he has everything delivered to him, he never leaves the house. Food, clothes, electronics. And he doesn't shower. He has this like powder stuff, kind of like delousing powder. And he has this chamber he sleeps in. Kind of like Michael Jackson but way more complex. And it also acts as an isolation chamber and that's where he gets his ideas from... "
Idiot. She obviously reads not enough literature and too much People magazine and National Enquirer.
I am about to correct her, and wait....Here it comes.
Finally, a bookstore employee has come outside.
"All right people, single file. No Pushing. He's only going to sign two things at most for you. You each have five minutes and don't get too close. There's a lot of people here today people and he only has a limited amount of time here, so please let's keep things moving along. "
All makes perfect sense. Oh so many things to say, so many things to discuss. But only five minutes. What to say. Well, I know he'll love me so I'll just introduce myself and instantly we'll have that connection and of course he'll recognize how I'm worthy of so much more of his time and of course he'll ask me to dinner and we can discuss....
"Sir...Sir....SIR YOU ARE FIRST. LET'S MOVE IT ALONG."
Idiot. No need to embarrass me.