Up most of the night tormented by ghosts, thoughts and desires. Walking down the street in Boston to Copley Square and into the public library.
At home with the word, my feverish mind is soothed, just sitting inside the walled courtyard surrounded by books, quiet like church.
I can feel the lives of the authors, the emotional energy of their word. It is very powerful. I see there is an exhibit on Defoe. I think I will take my muse to meet his immortal word.
I’ve become obsessed with immortality through the word, it’s not a new, this concept of the immortal word.
God became word, it was recorded in the bible, past onward on lips of the devout.
Novelist become immortal in places like this, public libraries.
I suppose my obsession is bourn out of desperation. My unreasoning sense of loss, loss of my myself. That feeling coming after losing one of my sons. Cut off forever like the root of Jesse.
Like sitting in a church, the voices fill my head. I close my eyes. The sun is coming out, I feel it on my face, like a kiss from heaven.
Thank you son.
Getting up now.
I’m going to find that exhibit on Defoe.
Courtyard of the Boston Public Library at Copley Square
©The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect, 2013
The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect 
Both atmospheric and vivid. The Bible tie-in really adds to the idea of immortality through the written word. Really cool.
You are too kind. Have you been following the latest on J. D. Salinger. That’s certainly what I meant by this story, not that prolific, but still touching the hearts and minds long after publishing. And now just 3 years after his death is followers still are waiting for his last words.
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