I’m stalling.

I’ve been stalling on writing the first chapter. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been writing. Humorous emails, copious amount of notes, drafted and re-drafted press release and strategy memos, even a few HI moments, anything but the first chapter of my book.
Some of the other chapters are already written, I’ve got those some of those done a while back, just not the first one, where it all begins.

To tell the story properly, I will have to tell you where I was in life and how it felt. About the day I paced in circles, nearly hyperventilating, 48 hours before a one-way flight to Mexico. Or what happened that night in San Diego during a double bill of Nine Inch Nails & Jane’s Addiction. And the day after when I trampled across the grass to meet my friend, picking up her house keys, dropping to my knees, sobbing, in the middle of Culver Studios at the sight of her.

It was a lifetime ago. But to make this story I’m about to tell you good, worthy of your time, narrating the events is not enough. I need to let you in, take you on this journey with me. You need to be there with me, feel what I feel. Or else this is just another, I went there and did that kind of book. There are enough of those around don’t you think?

The shaman transcends time, channeling the past and future. All of it is right there —- at our finger tips —- within reach. All the memory, all those feelings, you just have to reach out and call its name. It’s not any different than the lingering touch of a lover the day after, albeit not nearly as pleasant. I’m stalling. I know it will come if I summon it, but do I dare? I won’t be heading back and relive it again in private, but with you and everyone else.

Oh look, there is a bit of crumb stuck in between the keys. Maybe I should clean my keyboard.