Saturday, December 10, 2011


In a previous post, long, long ago, I mentioned Cookie and promised to talk about her later. I just checked my watch and it’s definitely later. Though her identity was a mystery to me until fairly recently, I don’t want that situation to be the trend here, as I suspect her name will come up again in my posts.

Cookie is my muse. Neither her name nor her existence is a fabrication of my imagination, unlike Charlotte who, though vibrantly alive to me, is of course my fictional character. I mean, please, I’m a writer. Don’t you think I’d make up something better than Cookie, something more lofty and literary, for a muse? Of course I would. Cookie is a name better suited to my protagonist, Charlotte, than a muse, and I wouldn’t even saddle her with it; I like her too much. The only Cookie I can recall having run across in my life is a childhood friend’s dog, and she bit me once. The name also makes me think of Edd Byrnes’ character, Kookie, in the old TV show, 77 Sunset Strip…yeah, I know that really dates me. But, I digress. Get used to it, I’m known to do that.

So, yeah, I was highly irritated when she told me her name. More accurately, she revealed her name. She reveals things to me when and if I’m in the mood to pay attention. I may say that Cookie told me this or said that, but that’s just in a manner of speaking. I’m not hearing voices. It hasn’t gotten that bad, yet, and I’ll let you know if I really start needing meds.

Nonetheless, quite cognizant of the difference between reality and fiction, I know Cookie is real, whether you believe it or not. Despite her lack of physical…or aural…manifestation, I say to those of you believing that only the sensate is real, more will be revealed. If I were subjected to techniques twice as torturous as those employed at Guantanamo Bay and interrogated about every fact and facet of her life, I’d be unable to tell you much more. I know only what she’s told me, only what she allows me to know, and then only what I’m willing and able to accept. I’m stubborn.

That’s not to say it’s kept me from thinking about her a lot. Put yourself in my shoes; wouldn’t you give quite a bit of thought to the realization that there is an entity communicating with you—a presence, a soul—call her what you will? I can’t honestly say she’s just come into my life. Quite the contrary. I was astonished to discover she’s always been with me; I don’t always arrive quickly at awareness and a willingness to listen. Now knowing she’s always been there makes me feel like a huge idiot. That is about the only part of this that isn’t new. It also makes me feel a bit sorry for her. Completely ignored and neglected all these years—unquestionably female—you can imagine how well that sat with her. Still, she’s hung in there, and that’s given rise to a huge question in my mind. Why?

As she reveals more and my understanding further gels to something I can better articulate, I’ll write more about her.