My insignificance is a source of delight for me. I'm aware that I would never have made a very good famous person. Neither do most famous people. We all love a scandal, don't we? The fall of the mighty is exciting in the same way as a NASCAR debacle on the six o'clock news.
If you want ghosts to visit, all you have to do is believe. I should say that's the first thing you have to do. When I was a kid I believed in ghosts. That's what kids do. I was afraid of them. Not terrified, probably because of Casper, but uneasy about their presence.
By the time that I pretended to be a grownup for four or five decades I had dismissed the concept. You know, kinda' like when you quit playing in the rain and licking the spoon with the cookie batter.
Recently, and that now means ten minutes or twenty years ago, it occurred to me that ghosts exist in our imagination. That, sweet friends, is entirely different from me telling you that ghosts don't exist. Lots of things exist in our imagination. Let's start with love.
Those guys in the lab coats can talk about dopamine and serotonin till the cows come home but they can't make love in the laboratory. Oh, they can fuck each other silly but you know what I mean.
Love certainly exists. Most of us can agree on that. It's my favorite. In fact, believing in it is the only requirement for seeing it. You can't make it happen and you can't bottle it. Well, there were those ads in men's adventure magazines for "Spanish fly" when I was in the sixth grade but there were ads for "sea monkeys," too. I mean you mailed the money and you got something but it wasn't really love and it wasn't really a monkey.
The best thing is that you can always give the love away. Makes folks happy. Animals, too. Hokey as it is, you'll never run out.
Look here- I've run off on a tangent. Imagine that!
My pal, Ed Brown, visited in my dream last night. He was as real as could be. He walked through walls, too. I suppose I dreamed about love and ghosts.