I wanted to begin with Elsewhere, and that crazy kaleidoscope time, and the little bit of wisdom that I picked up there, like gold-flake dust caught up in the cuffs of my pants and not noticed until later, but I can’t start with Elsewhere, can’t start with anything, not really, climibg and crasping back up the chain of causes and happenings, my momma made me in a parking lot, commodious recirculations, like that third or fourth chapter in the Bible where they start getting into all those begats — this one begat that one and that begat and this one and that one begat this one — and all with crazy ridiculous names with too many syllables, some names doubling even, so that the grandson is named after the grandfather or gave birth to him or something —
All that David Copperfield crap, right? I’m a reader of books, if you haven’t noticed. Big books, little books, comic books, I read them, and seem to remember them too — I don’t know if the books that have done it, or if it’s just a strange coincedence, but I feel very much the protagonist a lot of the time, really, which maybe shouldn’t be that surprising, since they’re all writers and I’m a writer too, or want to be. Narrative and narrative and counter-narrative and punch — KAPOW like 1960s Batman, in Dayglo Batsuits KAPOW! and BLAM!!, and Robin doing somersaults in the background.
But where was I — somewhere near conception right? I was meticulously planned, and, I mean, I’m sure it was tolerable for the parties invovled, but really, I mean, I should have known then (or not then, but as soon as I learned this story, which was somewhat somewhat young I think) I should have known I should have known – I mean the parents were going at it morning, noon, and night, on high holidays and in other people’s houses — that’s diligence and effort and my mom was like 23 at the time. Wowza, right? Who was she? Thank Nobodad for her diligence though, right? For want of a sperm, the kingdom’d be lost. I might not have cared then if I’d never been born but – – –