Storyteller

I think if I lived long ago I would have enjoyed being the tribe's storyteller. Not that I can tell stories. I just have a strange habit of giving 'voice' to the things and animals around me. And I do it without thinking. It's just that there are certain things that catch my attention and I can't help it. Things like the baby bird balanced on the edge of its nest. Or the creepy earth mounds set back on a deserted road. Or the swaying corn stalks. Or broken windows in a long abandoned farmhouse. Even my motorcycle doesn't escape my chatter. And sometimes I get so carried away with my dialogue that my travel companions will get creeped out and beg that I stop as they cautiously glance out the windows wide-eyed.

But my favorites are the abandoned buildings. When we're on the bikes we find the most amazing places. And on one road trip we discovered a town that was basically deserted. Peeking into dusty windows spun my imagination out of control. I could see small tables with toppled chairs. Some dishes still stood on the tables and in the corner was a small curtain enclosed stage. Paint was peeling from the tin walls and the wooden floor was carpeted in layers of dust. I stood there with my fellow riders peeking in and spewing my ideas of what happened and ending with a storyline consisting of the walking dead until one of the wives asked me to please stop and made us leave.

Then there's my lab, Jazz, who stirs the creative juices. Her daily antics will inspire a running dialogue like "oh I've been shot in the paw" (as she lifts her paw and dangles it as if broken) and "I can't go on living" (as she dramatically throws herself on the floor and closes her eyes) and the cool thing is that her actions will follow right along with my dialogue. My son will watch all this and ask, "how do you do that?" So is my little actress playing along to my words or am I fitting my words to her anticipated actions.

And sometimes I wonder if my antics will get me in trouble. At a long eye exam the other day I laughed out loud to the scene in my head. The eye doctor eyed me curiously so I asked "how freaked out would you be if my eye just turned sideways and looked at you ala lizard". He laughed but then I realized hmmm, I said that out loud. I'm going to get myself committed one day.

I apparently need a hobby or a job. Or someone to talk to. Hee hee!

While building this, what was going through the builder's mind?

Was he thinking of his bills?

Or of his kids at home?

Or the cold beer with his buddies?
Who leaned against the wall waiting to hear the long whistle on the track?

Was this the last building the runaway saw before she boarded the train?

Or did she think of ending it on the rails?
Did the attendant cry when he closed the door for the last time?

Does the building wonder where everyone has gone?

Or is it kept company by those from long ago?

Or, or, or....

Those darned 5Ws
~Whoa! Welcome to the recesses of my mind. Can you see why it's exhausting?"~