“Manic Depression’s touching my soul… I know what I want… but I just don’t know how to go about getting it…”
James Marshall Hendrix, Artist, 1967
NaNoWriMo stalked Parsons much longer than a Half-Century. Like that thing that bit him in the woods when he was a little boy in the tall place with the black tar roads and the Electric Cows.
In the tall place with green fields a Barrier of bright shiny thin lines was hypothesized to keep the Electric Cows from wandering. An Electric Bull debunked the theory.
Parsons roamed the streets of Back Bay, while simultaneously seeking certifiable smartness and warm dull prophecy.
A blaze of Orange Sunshine Fire smacked him right square in the R-Complex.
He gazed beyond the gleaming metal giants brandishing myriad persian blue eyes –like flies. Walkways bleached white as bones. Up into a Deep Quantum Realm.
Much time went by. A force propelled him relentlessly toward Louise, an alive kewpie doll from another dimension. Louise taught Parsons mind-listen-mind-speak.
One day Louise mentioned something like, “Granno-Rhino.” Parsons said OK.
“I feel that someone is following me, oh yeah…”
James Douglas Morrison, Poet, 1971