Haven't posted for a couple days, and have a long day ahead, so thought I would jump in quickly now before the caffeine hits. With my copyedit done, and income tax pending, it's school visiting season -- Oakville yesterday and Barrie today. Joys of a southern Ontario kid author.
I don't know what to do about this myspace thing. I have three contacts now, and they mail me things saying we have to be friends, and I'm a friendly guy, so I email them back, and then I sit there waiting like grandma in Miami. Why don't they write back, or call? Are they all right? Do they need help? Poor Helena. I see her with her family (the picture she sent me has her posed by the side of a station wagon, two small kids waving), lost somewhere in the midwest -- for some reason Missouri comes to mind -- eager to find a friend, but suffering from amnesia from the car accident. Oh, dear. Those kids are not going to be eating properly with Mom in the hospital. In this age of instant info, it's astounding we can't make contact. And Tom. What's with him? Is he even alive? He seems so pleasant, a youngish middle-aged guy, looking over his shoulder in his picture. He has just produced an album, he told me. That's great! I wrote back. What kind of music do you play, I asked him. Are you in a band? You know, I play some keyboards myself. I'm no Art Tatum, but I've been around the musical block a few times. Maybe we could get together and jam sometime, I said. But he never got back. I wonder if he's been kidnapped? You hear about things like this happening. He plays some lonely town full of strangers who aren't on myspace, and he's walking back to his hotel, maybe looking backward over his shoulder so he doesn't notice the stranger lurking, and then: Boom! And he's in the back of a van with duct tape around his ankles. It's scary, I tell you. I can't bear to think of this happening to my friends. I feel I should call someone, but I don't know who. Are the police on myspace?
Shoot, running late. Got to go. But I'll keep you all posted. I'm not finished with this. I will not let my friends go gently. Helena, honey, I'm thinking about you. Tom, hang in there!