Saturday, September 17, 2011


this is not a regular post. It's me, wilkravitz. I am tapping this out in a coffee bar on Germantown Avenue, the trendy, cobbled, neo-colonial commercial spine of  Chestnut Hill. All is copasetic back at the Glen Gary Road house. Maybe we should not  name the street all the time, but what difference is it going to make? Most of you go right on believing we're just fiction no matter what we say. maybe it's better that way.

Although, some of the locals know better. younger readers sommetimes know who I am. they recognise me. How? not sure. I think a few of them are witches. Like the one sitting near the stone fireplace (first flame this season). Always takes her coffee black. Sprinkles some kind of dried, crumbled leaves in it. And she wears this talisman around her neck. Don't know what it is. Looks like a naked Barbara Walters holding up a plate of spaghetti. Not sure. But I don't want to stare.

she sees me. she nods. I nod back. Everybody else sits bent over their magic keyboards. no one so much as looks up. I think they live here. another twenty-something female quietly enters and joins the might-be-witch. they exchange greetings in some unknown tongue. The onne with the naked barbara walters around her neck laughs.

But here's the funny part. I could swear I ate all of my big oatmeal-raisin cookie (quite the toothsome treat). Yet upon glancing down at the small white plate, I discovered that was not so, for a complete, unviolated fragrant one was staring  right up at me (two of the raisins looked just like eyes). then, when I picked it up to take a bite, the witches began to giggle. Plus, the sound system, or Surius, or whatever they got, started playing Days of future Past (or is it Passed? I can never remember) of my favorites.  Best of all, this big, painful zit I had commandeering the left side of my nose was miraculosly gone. I could feel it. I was healed.

the witches gave me a knowing look........I nodded and mouthed a quick 'thank you.' .....they nodded back, gathered up their things (fine, tooled, leather satchels...thin, wool chalis scarves... you know, 'witchy stuff'). But as they exited out into the chill, gray afternoon, a rogue gust of wind...a  tiny, whip-like tongue, blew a scrap of paper up from their table and sent it swirling and dancing over to  me. It came down right over the third button on the fly of my vintage Levis blue jeans. I picked it up. there was a phone number and one short sentence. it said - take us to your leader..........No, two short sentences. there was something on the said - call us...........

I told you this wan't a real post. that will probably come later. and I don't know who I'll be channeling. but I just thought I'd fill you in on what was happening. you know, give a little bit of the 'back story.'

Let me finish my cookie. We'll talk some more tonight............


please excuse my erratic typing. the experience left me a bit 'aggitated.'  please leave comments, plus a link where we can get back to you.........thank you, wilkravitz

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