Almost every time that I am faced with a blank page and the possibility of eyes besides my own pair looking at my groupings of letters, I hear Kevin’s voice from Kids in the Hall. In that high, nearly out of control warble that he is known to do, I hear the words “Write what you know! Write what you know! What do I know?”
Exactly. What do I know? I am currently trying to imagine what part of my insides are the most interesting to warrant putting on the outside and my stream of conscious is really quite fascinating (to me) and so there we are. A perfect beginning, to be sure.
The silence is unbroken and the darkness is giving no token or something like that. Lenore! I hear Leo breathing heavily and the computer humming behind me. Did I mention that it smells of corn and old books? A plane flies overhead and my stomach makes one of those weird noises that it has been doing lately. Last night it sounded like an alarm was going off somewhere down the darkened corridors of some old abandoned school whos walls are the color of sea foam and lit only with the emergency lights, but it was actually my stomach. Alien incubation has been mentioned as an exciting possibility.
How is that for fascinating?