Miracle Myx Gets Psyched

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"I see ... a woman," Myx said. He was using a far-off, halting voice.

"Myx, we're alone here in the dark on Main Street." I was always taking Myx literally, when, by now, I should know better.

"This woman--she's in a land far away. Yes ... it is becoming clearer."

We were at the storefront of a local psychic, and suddenly it all made sense. Myx was giving me a reading. I'd say a free reading, but just dealing with Myx was payment enough.

"O Wise One, what does this woman look like?" I figured I'd play along.

"She has--two eyes," Myx said assuredly.

"Two?"

"One for seeing, and one ... for knowing."

"Isn't the third eye usually for that?" Maybe I should have shut up.

"She uses her third eye for Deal Or No Deal--to try and guess the suitcase," Myx said, unperturbed.

"And do you have any predictions, O Great One?"

"Wise One is better," Myx said.

"O Wise One."

"I predict this woman won't take any of your BS."

"You didn't have to be psychic for that," I said.

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Miracle Myx Is Driven

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"Not even accurate," Myx said.

"Why do you have to start off with a negative?" I asked.

"Why can't you get it right? The title of this blog entry should be about me driving!"

If Myx thought I, a seasoned writer (I won't tell you which season!), was going to justify my choices about word selection, he--

"The word 'driven' is a good selection because it can be taken two ways: literally, because you're in the cute little car there, and psychologically, because of your mental and emotional makeup."

Dammit!

"I do some driving in the book," Myx said.

I knew he wouldn't acknowledge any argument that made logical sense to him. Myx was referring to actually taking the wheel in MIRACLE MYX, something an unlicensed "driver" should never do. But, Myx, with his synesthetic reflexes, might be the best driver you'll meet.

"You're new buddy there looks ready to go," I said.

"Outta my way--we're comin' through!"

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Miracle Myx Is A Swinger

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"I won't say it," Myx started.

I knew this was going to be some sort of complaint. We were passing a recreational area, and I, out of the goodness of my heart (OK--I wanted a pic, no matter what Myx would say) stopped to stage this photo.

"Say what?" I'd play along if it meant taking a few seconds off Myx's clock so he let me get this done.

"That I'm gonna fall."

"Didn't you tell me that's some kind of rhetoric--when you mention something by saying you're not going to mention it?" Myx was using his verbal jiu-jitsu on me; I was getting better at noticing it, but not defending myself against it.

"Apophasis," Myx said, "also known as praeteritio and occupatio."

"By any other name would smell as sweet." I knew I was spouting some Shakespeare that had become a cliche--but it was all I had to try and keep up with Myx.

"I guess I should consider myself lucky that you didn't give me a push on this thing before trying to take the pic," Myx said, maybe with some relief.

"Hmmm ...." I considered.

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Miracle Myx Croons

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"It's quarter to three..."

"Myx, you know it's later than that," I said.

"There's no one in the place 'cept you and me."

"Of course we're alone. Are you feeling OK?"

"So set 'em up Joe--I got a little story I think you oughtta know."

"Joe?"

We were under a lamp, and I have to admit there was a lonely air to this pre-dawn scene. But, something triggered this strange dialogue from Myx. I'm sure I would find out what was going on sooner or later. Later would be worse for me.

"We're drinking my friend--to the end of a brief episode."

I finally got it when Myx started singing--imitating Sinatra. The classic scene of him with the hat and the overcoat under the streetlamp. Funny how things prompted Myx to act.

"Together, Dave," Myx said.

"Now?"

"Now is good," Myx said.

And, on a cold and lonely morning in the middle of Massachusetts, Myx and I finished up "One For My Baby" in the glare of the light.

"So make it one for my Baby--and one more for the road."

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Miracle Myx Plays It Cool

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"Don't move," I said.

It had taken me a while to get MIRACLE MYX balanced atop the outdoor thermometer. Every time I thought I had it, Myx would start to slip to one side or another.

"Just hurry up," Myx said.

Maybe if the center of attention was staying up there--nice and safe--Myx wouldn't complain about the bitterly cold temperature. This was the highest it would get all day; earlier, it had been in the single digits.

"Almost, there," I said as I backed away far enough to encompass both Myx and the round thermometer. I looked behind me first--in the past I had been so intent on taking a picture, I backed up and stumbled over things that were behind me. Not good for the image of grace, agility, and elegance I have of myself.

"I think I'm slipping--and it's cold!"

"Got it!" I grabbed Myx off his perilous perch (hey--some alliteration should be allowed).

"You weren't fantasizing about being graceful, agile, and elegant again--were you?" Myx asked.

"No." Lying comes in handy sometimes, even if Myx doesn't buy it.

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Miracle Myx Gets Tabled

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"I don't mind this at all," Myx said.

"So, you're cooperating willingly for once?"

"We're inside, it's warm--I'm in no immediate danger--what's not to like!"

This was different from some of the locales we've visited recently. It made for a more leisurely photo shoot, which suited me fine. Having Myx not complain was always a plus.

"And, you're elegantly poised over some lace!" I figured I'd pour it on.

"Do you know the history of lace? Myx asked with that tone that didn't really care what I answered.

"Myx, please don't subject me to another trivia-filled lecture."

"They believe it started in ancient Rome, but Belgium can be said to be the cradle of lace," Myx began.

"La-la-la, la-la-la-la!" I started singing the Banana Splits theme song to shut him up. It was a Saturday morning TV show from the late 60's.

"There are two kinds of lace: needle lace and bobbin lace."

"La-la-la, la-la-la-la!" My strategy was: louder was better.

Myx was undeterred, "Did you know the Banana Splits Adventure Hour ran only 31 episodes, and that ..."

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Miracle Myx Looks Rundown

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"I hear a car."

"Myx, there's nothing coming. Believe me," I said.

"Believe you? You're not the one sitting here like a speed bump! And--you don't have my hearing."

"I don't have your hearing, but mine is sharp enough to notice a car within 50 feet of you," I explained.

"It's not like I can leap outta the way here, Dave."

"Do you think I'd let anything happen to my little buddie?"

"Who are you now? The Skipper? Just hurry up"

We had been waiting outside the garage for a while. Traffic had slowed enough and I gambled (with Myx's hide--or I should say, dustjacket) that we could get a few shots before another auto ventured through the entrance.

"You actually look really good there against the dark entrance," I said. A little ego massage never failed to shake loose Myx's cooperation.

"It won't work, Dave. Less talking--more aiming."

"We almost have it," I said while clicking and getting that reassuring recorded whirrr from my camera.

"I hear a car!" Myx said with urgency.

This time--he was right!

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Miracle Myx Needs Hugs

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"I didn't even get her name," Myx said.

"She wanted to remain anonymous," I said.

"You could have gotten her name at least."

"Well--I did this on the run, yanno. I saw her tattoo and wanted to get you two together," I said.

"I like it; it's graceful, stylish, and artfully done. She told me it's two people dancing," Myx announced.

"Where was I when she was telling you that?"

"You're always there, Dave--but you don't always listen!"

"Yeah--I have other duties while you're getting up close and personal," I said. Myx sometimes ... OK, all the time, looks at things from a Myx-o-centric universe point of view.

"Getting a hug like this--inside and warm--is much better than where you usually deposit me."

"I agree," I said, "and the tattoo reminds me of yours on your--"

"Maybe you should let readers find out about that interesting fact while unraveling the mystery of MIRACLE MYX."

"Maybe your right; now quit snuggling and say 'tat' when I nod."

I snapped this pic.

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Miracle Myx Is Grand

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"Do you play, Myx?"

"I don't know; I haven't tried."

Myx, with his perfect memory, probably could watch someone play once and recreate the performance flawlessly. His synesthetic memory was incredible, and served him well amidst the dark deeds of MIRACLE MYX.

"I do know that there are 88 keys housed in there," Myx continued.

"You'e not going to start in on a lecture are you?" Sometimes--well--a lot of the time, Myx liked to show off something he'd read or seen. Why he wanted to show off to me is beyond me. I threatened him many times that I'd leave him on the shelf if he didn't stop.

He knew it was an idle threat.

"Did you know that each note of a grand piano has 35 points of adjustment?"

"I have no idea what that means--or why I'd need to know it. Why it's called a piano would be more useful," I said.

"Short for piano et forte, or soft and loud," Myx said with some of his usual pride. I won't call it arrogance this time.

"Myx, that's plenty of trivia for one--"

"The piano was invented in 1698 by an Italian, Bartolomeo Cristofori. It's interesting that he..."

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Miracle Myx Makes Booklist

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"So, Dave ... what does this mean?"

"You're in Booklist," I said, as if that alone explained something. But, I was curious where Myx would take this.

"It's an ad, Dave. It's paid for--not like a review ... or a starred review!"

My feeling of superiority evaporated like it almost always did when I was in a battle of wits with Myx Amens. He just had too much of his own curiosity and sheer force of mental capacity for me to surprise him much.

"I shoulda known that--"

"Do you think you really need the arrow?"

"I don't want anyone to miss that you're actually in the ad," I said.

"Librarians love me! How can they miss my handsome face, my bold cover, my sexy stare?"

"Sexy stare?"

Booklist is a magazine librarians rely on for information concerning books worthy of being included in their stacks. This ad, along with Kunati spring catalogs that are to soon be included in an issue--AND--an actual review of MIRACLE MYX in the mid-March issue should get Myx noticed. Libraries across the country would soon have copies for you to take on little trips to interesting places yourself!

Maybe even take your own photos!

"I'm looking good!" Myx sounded absorbed. Self-absorbed was good while I was taking photos of him.

"Now, Myx, why do librarians love you?"

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Miracle Myx Wigs Out

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"You got me up for this?"

Myx didn't sound happy. What a shock! But, I wasn't exactly excited about this excursion myself.

"Up? I thought you never slept? At least that's how I wrote you! Heh, heh!"

"I was making conversation. It was a euphemism for 'Why are you bothering me?' and I was being nice," Myx said.

It was 4:45 A.M.--Main Street--and 14 degrees (with a wicked wind!). I didn't blame Myx for rather being somewhere else.

"I wanted to get this in the dark," I told Myx, as if that explained everything.

"Nice flash reflection; that'll show off your photographic talents to our readers."

"That big white spot? They'll never notice because they'll be so intrigued by the ethereal quality of the disembodied heads," I said. Dammit! I should know better than to take a pic head-on into glass! I wouldn't give Myx the satisfaction of admitting a mistake, though.

"You're a poor photographer, Dave--but you have other qualities--"

"That make up for it?" I asked with a bit of hope.

"No. Other faults that overshadow your lack of artistic flair."

"Oh ... I mean ... HEY!"

"Let's go," Myx said, "this is creepy."

"Why?"

"I don't like the way the one on your far left is looking at me," Myx said.

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Miracle Myx Looks Out

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"And you think this is interesting--why?"

Although Myx was using the tone that he usually reserves to berate or embarrass me about some error of commission or omission on my part--this time he seemed, in addition, to be genuinely perplexed.

"I have my reasons, Myx."

"And, it's not even a good photo of me! Look how underexposed I am."

"You know I have trouble with a shot that has a light background. The automatic exposure thingy limits the light coming in, and the rest of the scene looks dark."

"Thingy?"

"It's a technical term us bloggers use," I said.

"Do you really consider yourself a blogger? With what you do here?" Myx asked--I think seriously.

"Sure," I said, "this is a combination of photo, travel, and reportage."

"Even you aren't delusional enough to believe that, Dave."

"No--but boy did it feel good to hear it," I said.

"Whew--that's better. Now why are we doing this particular photo?"

"Certain people think they're smarty panties--figuring out where we are. This is like a clue, a challenge," I said.

"Dave, this is ill-conceived, poorly executed, narrowly focused, and stupid!"

"And ... when has that stopped us before?"

"Good point," Myx said.

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Miracle Myx Falls At Her Feet

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"He had a foot fetish," Myx said.

"Hmmm?" At times Myx catches even me by surprise.

"The Chief. Remember I found some--"

"Remember? ... I wrote it, Myx."

"It does get interesting--I mean, the way we go back and forth in reality here and in my book too," Myx said.

"Your book? At the very least, it's our book. But if you want to get technical about it--it's my book. And, you call me talking to my own book reality?"

"You really want me to get silent and sulky?"

"Errr ... no ...that wouldn't be good for our blog, would it?"

"You're the one that put me here near her feet. In our book, I talk a little bit about feet and toe rings and--"

"It'll make good reading if you don't give it all away," I said.

"She does have pretty feet."

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Miracle Myx Clocks In

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"Time doesn't matter much to you, does it, Myx?"

"Just because I never sleep anymore?"

We were posing with the big, impressive 4-sided clock in Wrentham. It was cold, and I knew I wanted to keep Myx distracted for as long as I could. I'd talk about his favorite subject: him.

"That and ... well--yeah, that!"

"I found it hard at first never to have sleep as a divider. Never to have that punctuation mark that lets one day contain itself and define itself as a whole," Myx said.

I was backing up during Myx's little discussion. Myx had lost the ability to sleep after an unfortunate encounter in MIRACLE MYX. A few more seconds and I'd take the picture, explain myself to a few passersby, and we'd be out of there!

"Dave, you sniff a lot in your sleep."

"Do you see the size of my nose? Wait a second--you watch me in my sleep?

"Duh!"

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Miracle Myx Crashes

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"I wonder if anyone was hurt?" Myx, for once, sounded concerned.

"Dunno," I said as I tried to get far enough away to show that the subject of the devastation was a stretch limo.

"Quite an impact to do this."

"Yeah, Myx--now hold still."

"Hope nobody was in the car when it happened--the T-boning."

"With your skills, Myx, you could find out all about it."

"Sure, online: DMV, insurance, newspapers--easy, peasy."

"You've resorted to the 'easy, peasy' rhyme? I thought you hated that?"

"Only when others say it. Now, do you think you can snap that camera and get me outta here?"

"Easy, peasy!" I said as I took this photo.

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Miracle Myx Has Heart

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"You had to do it," Myx said.

"What?"

"Photoshop in a heart."

"Myx, it's Valentine's Day! People enjoy a little festivity!"

"Didn't you just debate about--"

"What did this cost me?"

"Hmmm ... good point," Myx concluded.

"Besides, this shot of you at a podium in an empty room is not that compelling."

"Me? Not compelling? Look at the confidence and gravitas I bring to the scene. If anyone walked in, they would have been enthralled--probably sat down and waited for the facundity to flow," Myx said. He was using that loud, authorative tone I found very annoying (and he knows it).

"I'm not looking that up," I said. "Myx, it's time to say it."

"Me alone, or together?"

"Together."

"HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!"

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Is Valentine's Day Too Commercial? Bonus Blog Debate

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"Myx, I'm gonna dazzle everyone in this debate with my logic, eloquence, and wit," I said with my usual panache.

"Is the debate with someone under 9 years old?" Myx inquired.

"No--another author."

"Uh-oh!" Myx said.
*********************************

HE SAID/SHE SAID

Is Valentine’s Day Too Commercial?

Writers Dave Diotalevi and Karen Harrington weigh in.

Karen Harrington is the author of JANEOLOGY
www.myspace.com/karenharringtonauthor

HE SAID

Karen, this whole Valentine thing has been taken out of a man's hands. Companies are trying to sell us ideas and products and force us to fit in to a mold.

SHE SAID

Well, Dave, maybe the “sell” tactic has been ineffective. The U.S. Greeting Card association estimates that 85% of all Valentine’s cards are purchased by WOMEN.

HE SAID

Sure, Karen--you women are giving them to EACH OTHER! You think a piece of cardboard with a couple of words on it, some sparkles, and a painted flower is worth 5 bucks. That’s a coupla beers...I mean, please break out of that trance you’ve been lulled into.

SHE SAID

Come on, Dave. Every man I meet tells me he needs a woman to be specific and direct. Valentine’s is just one more way a couple – not just the guy - can have a specific and direct objective: to celebrate each other’s love. And it doesn’t have to cost a lot. Where has your sense of romance gone?

HE SAID

I really don't need to be told when and where and how to be romantic. I just let the ol' Diotalevi charm waft its way to a lady--and then the MAGIC happens!

SHE SAID

Now, you’re reminding me of an ex-boyfriend. We had our names made into a heart puzzle shape – Karen + Steve. When we broke up, I handed him the “Steve” part. To which he replied, “but that’s not very romantic.” Yeah, magical.

HE SAID

Please give me Steve’s number so I can congratulate him on the close call. The puzzle--WHOSE idea was it to spend Steve’s hard-earned cash on that puzzle? YOURS! Because you had some prefabricated film concept of two pieces separated but whole. You bought into some advertisement while poor Steve was probably right there--the REAL goods and not some symbol--ready to wait on you hand and foot just because you’re gorgeous. He never saw the portrait you keep of yourself in the attic I take it.

SHE SAID

Actually, I just wanted the name puzzle because I thought it would look nice on our mantle.

HE SAID

Companies are out to make a buck--admit it. They want a guy to try and keep up with an image on TV or a magazine regardless of how he truly feels. That artificial guilt is what drives guys nuts and then makes a woman feel like she's being neglected, taken for granted, and undervalued.

SHE SAID

Sure, sure, media and movies contribute to romantic ideals. But what I want to know is exactly when did celebrating Valentine’s Day officially jump the shark? The Valentines exchange of love messages has existed since poor St. Valentine’s himself was martyred on February 14, 269 AD. I mean, a MAN started this whole thing. So the modern man doesn’t have time to write personal love messages anymore and he gets Hallmark to help him. What’s the big deal?

HE SAID

Some of St. V’s captors probably had mystical visions of what he was going to put men through for the next millennia and said, “Time to teach this guy a lesson!” Time to write is one thing, but a written note is never right with a woman: it’s too short, you didn’t say you love me enough, when are you going to stop writing like a doctor--it goes on and on. But Hallmark--then you get ooohhs and aaahhhs--for 5 bucks again.

SHE SAID

Ouch! Well, I guess she of the “you didn’t say you love me enough” era didn’t realize you were going to turn out to be such a prolific fiction writer, huh? Oh, and it was the prison guard’s daughter to whom St. Valentine wrote his last affectionate message – “Love, from your Valentine.” I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any media propaganda back then forcing his pen to the page.

HE SAID

Okay. Okay. Got me on that point. Maybe it would have been better if the guard’s daughter had slipped Val a key to his shackles as a sign of her devotion for the first Valentine’s day! Now THERE’S a gift!

But men don't need a special day to commemorate some unattainable ideal of love. Love is something that can be shown constantly without some "authority" legislating it in the media.

SHE SAID

Men don’t need a special day? I beg to differ. As evidence, I call my first witness from that timeless classic Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown.

Violet: Charlie Brown, we've been feeling awfully guilty about not giving you a Valentine this year. Here, I erased my Valentine from this one. I'd like you to have it.

Schroeder: Hold on there! What do you think you're doing? Who do you think you are? Where were you yesterday when everyone else was giving out Valentines? And now you have the nerve to come around one day later and offer him a used Valentine just to ease your conscience. Well let me tell you something - Charlie Brown doesn't need your –

Charlie Brown: Don't listen to him! I'll take it!

HE SAID

So, Karen, you’re teaching me about offering unique and special Valentines by quoting an old Valentine ABOUT a recycled Valentine? And do you wonder why men are confused, scared, and cowed into digging that two beers--I mean--five bucks out of their pockets and buying a card that is embarrassing as the female cashier reads it and says, “Awwww!”

All I can say to you, Karen, is...Happy Valentine’s Day!

SHE SAID

Well, thanks, Dave. I guess what it comes down to is this: If every guy or girl expressed thoughts of appreciation and love on their own, we wouldn’t need a row of cards to do it for us. But as writers, we really don’t want people to stop buying other people’s words, do we?

Happy Valentine’s to you, too, Charlie Brown…I mean, Dave.

Dave Diotalevi is the author of MIRACLE MYX
www.myspace.com/davediotalevi

Karen Harrington is the author of JANEOLOGY
www.myspace.com/karenharringtonauthor

*********************************

"Hey, Myx--how'd I do?"

"She whipped your ass, Dave"

Miracle Myx Goes Fishing

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"I'm gonna fall in," Myx said.

"Myx, the top is enclosed. Sure it's got openings for feeding purposes, but you're fine."

"Those fish would strip me to the bones in seconds."

"A book has bones? Those aren't pirahnas--and, do you think the aroma of wet cardboard and paper would lure them close?" I thought that should allay any of Myx's fears.

"Did you see how some of them are looking at me?"

"They're just curious, Myx. They've never seen such a famous book up close," I said. Sure, I was pouring it on; but--this was Myx I was talking to, and he needed hyperbole as a steady diet.

"I'm gonna fall in."

Maybe a slight redirection of the subject would work: "Myx, you actually take care of some fish in MIRACLE MYX."

"Oh yeah! I do it so I have the run of a nice computer while a guy is on his frequent trips out of town. He always has a pantry that's stocked with goodies. A good arrangement for me and my needs."

"Your needs?"

"I need to get outta here. I'm gonna fall in!"

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Miracle Myx Is Grave

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"Death, the one appointment we all must keep, and for which no time is set," Myx said.

We were at the Southborough grave of Warner Oland, an actor famous for his portrayal of Charlie Chan from the books by Earl Derr Biggers.

"You're doing quotes by Charlie, I see, Myx."

"Hasty conclusion like gunpowder. Easy to explode."

"Wuddaya mean, hasty? I'm just stating what I see is the obvious truth," I said.

"Grain of sand in eye may hide mountain."

"Sometimes you really try my patience, Myx."

"Kindness in heart much better than gold in bank."

"What do you think about being here with the great Warner Oland?" I figured this would cure him of his quotitis.

"Role of dead man requires very little acting."

Nope--it was hard to stump Myx--him having that damned synesthetic memory that let him effortlessly dredge up the most obscure sights, sounds, and feelings he had witnessed.

"Myx--"

"Greeting at end of journey like refreshing rain after long drought."

"I was just going to say I got the pic, and now it's time to go, Number One son."

Myx was unusually quiet for a few seconds, then ...

"Dave?"

"Hmmm?"

"Am I really your Number One son?"

Always, Myx ... always ...."

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Miracle Myx Imagines

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"This is quite a place, eh Myx?"

We were at the Peace Abbey in Sherborn--dedicated to people who really made a difference in the world by promoting togetherness, toleration, and love. John Lennon, of Beatles fame and later ardent peace activist, was a prime example.

"Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today..."

"Myx, you're not gonna--"

"Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace..."

"We should really talk about--"

"Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world ..."

"I get it ... you won't be happy till you finish, Myx. All together now:"

"You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one ."

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Miracle Myx Is Watched

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"Angels," I said.

"You sure you want to get into this?"

"Myx, in our mystery, MIRACLE MYX, some questions are raised about your experiences."

"Out of the ordinary, aren't they? Just take the picture and let me get out of here--it's creeping me out a little bit."

"You--creeping YOU out. What about what you do in the book?" I said this with kind of an incredulous laugh. Myx had some very strange habits concerning watching others, and I found it funny for him to react to being watched himself--even by a statue. Still, I didn't have synesthesia, so I really couldn't relate to what Myx was feeling.

"I think I'm quite angelic in my own way!" Myx's voice was bright with either irony or satire--I'm never smart enough to know the difference.

"Tell me what you know about angels, Myx."

"They play in Anaheim and Vladimir Guerrero, the team's left fielder, is their best hitter."

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Miracle Myx Is Sweet

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"The Spanish Civil War," Myx said.

"What?" I thought my answer was elegant and to the point.

"Instead of complaining about setting me up here where I can take a toss to the ground at any minute--I'll try to broaden your knowledge and activate maybe one or two synapses in that sluggish system you call a brain."

"Thanks ... I think. What does the Spanish Civil War have to do with anything?" Myx was a know-it-all; he would not only admit it, but, be more than happy to prove it to you. I hoped he would do just that while I took this photo.

"On a trip to Spain, Forrest Mars saw some soldiers eating chocolate encased in a hard candy crust. This prevented melting while shooting and being shot at. Ol' Forrest came back to his stove in the US and whipped up a batch of imitations, and started to sell them in 1941."

Myx was rolling and I only had to snap the pic and get him outta there.

"They became a favorite of GIs in WWII when they were shipped in cardboard tubes."

"Why are they called M&M'S?" Why do I get hooked into being interested in Myx's expositions?

"Bruce Murrie--the other 'M' was the partner of Mars at the time. Dave--how am I like M&M'S?"

"Oh boy ... how?"

"Tell our readers I won't melt in their hands!"

Miracle Myx

Dave Diotalevi MySpace!

Miracle Myx Gets Shelved

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"They're not talking to me," Myx said.

"The other books?"

"Yeah--they must be jealous, because they're giving me the cold shoulder."

"At least that's the only kind of cold you're getting, Myx."

"They at least could be courteous."

"Maybe it's because you're a newcomer and it takes a while for some acceptance," I said. A little reasoning, even if based on fantasy and false logic, goes a long way with Myx.

"Dave--we're in the 'New Book' section. Look at all those 14-day stickers on ... errr ... they're not gonna plaster me with those things are they?"

"Only after you're published and find your place in libraries across the country. It'll help that you're being reviewed in the March 15th Booklist. That will show librarians why their library needs a copy of you!"

"Isn't that the Ides of March? Et tu, Booklist?" Myx said with a dramatic flair.

"It'll be a great review." I sounded as confident as my experience with feedback permitted. Every single person who read MIRACLE MYX so far had loved it.

"These books still aren't chatting."

"Myx--books don't talk," I said.

"Huh?"

Miracle Myx

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Miracle Myx Gets Hot

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"Es caliente adentro aquí."

"Myx, you're not still mad at me for being out in the cold, are you?"

Sometimes, Myx's synesthetic memory worked against me by having him keep a grudge longer than necessary. On second thought, maybe even a normal memory would be enough to recall some of the antics I put MIRACLE MYX through.

"Me plazco a estar adentro, usted idiota."

"You know I don't speak any language other than English--if you don't count a little pig Latin. But, I didn't like the sound of that," I said.

Myx was obviously influenced by the atmosphere of the little Mexican restaurant we were dining at. His fantastic memory made him a natural polyglot (yeah, I looked it up!).

"Ese salsa parece delicioso."

"Are you talking about the food? I caught the last word anyway," I said, trying to keep up at least a little bit.

I loaded a chip with salsa and popped it into my mouth. I wasn't ready for the sudden rush of spices and ended up coughing and sputtering--my eyes watering.

"Si usted estrangula, no le estoy dando el Heimlich," Myx said--I think unsympathetically.

I asked the waitress, who was passing by, what Myx said. She told me he wanted me to know I was on my own if I choked.

Miracle Myx

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Miracle Myx Branches Out

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"AAAGGHHH!"

"C'mon, Myx. It's not that bad," I said.

"OOOOMMMPH!"

A large branch was frozen in place--stuck solid in the ice. I thought this was an ideal place for MIRACLE MYX to take a ride.

"This will only take a second, Myx. Yanno, my hands are cold out here and getting the camera out and composing the shot takes a little time. This is no picnic for me, either."

"GEEEGATTCH!"

"Do you seriously want me to think that ice-cold branch stuck between your ... err ... pages is hurting you?"

"HOOOOWACKK!"

"Art requires patience and sacrifice," I said. I find that I can have patience if someone else is willing to make the sacrifices.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Miracle Myx

Dave Diotalevi MySpace!

Miracle Myx Gets Catty

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"I think Paige likes you," I said.

I had been lucky--for once. As soon as I set MIRACLE MYX down, Paige, my friend Harriet's cat circled and sniffed, and even tried to peer inside. What a relief to have something go right for a change on my daily quest for a suitable photo.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Myx said.

"You be nice to this cat--no killing, maiming, or scaring; she seems a little skittish." Any sudden movement on my part made Paige leap for her life.

"Like a cat on a hot tin roof," Myx said.

"You're not going to play that game again ... using old sayings?"

"You just let the cat out of the bag!"

"Then, Myx--I'm not talking to you any more."

"Cat got your tongue?"

"I won't play your game."

"Cat and mouse?" Myx countered.

"Myx, you really have to--"

"Look what the cat dragged in!"

I knew Myx was pleased with himself: he was grinning like a Cheshire Cat!

Miracle Myx

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