Miracle Myx Remembers

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"You can hardly tell," Myx said.

"Tell?" I always try to sound smart by echoing something I don't get. Does it work? Almost never, but I never said I learn from my mistakes.

"That this withered thing is an elephant. A joyous one by the looks of it."

"Symbol of what?" I asked. My voice had a hint of joy of its own since I thought this would get us onto the subject I intended.

"The GOP? You're not gonna make this a political statement, are you, Dave?"

"If I knew enough about either party I would ... I mean ... no!"

"Then, reading your transparent motives and feeble associative powers, I'd say you want me to talk about the cliché 'memory like an elephant.'"

"I have powers?" I raised my eyebrows and smiled when I asked that!

Myx ignored me and went on to explain: "Because of my synesthesia, I have a perfect memory, everything crystal clear."

"Can you remember all my other powers?"

"The crystal has gone dark!" Myx said.
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Miracle Myx Bens The Truth

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"You were born near here, Myx," I said.

"Born?"

"Sounded good, but no. The seminal idea for your character was caused by a book I bought near here."

"You're not going to tell the story of--"

"I was drawn to a strange title at Ephraim's bookstore here in Worcester. Ephraim's was a used bookstore with piles of books everywhere--its inventory was bought out by Ben Franklin. A thin book with the title MIND OF A MNEMONIST drew my attention back then, more than 20 years ago," I said.

"By Dr. Luria and it was about--"

"A Russian man with a perfect memory because of synesthesia."

"Just like me," Myx said.

"You're Russian?" I asked.

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Miracle Myx Is Grandfathered In

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"Ready for some tick talk, Myx?"

"You stole my joke," Myx said.

"I only steal from the best," I said.

"We know that's not true. You steal from anybody you think has a good line."

"And ...?"

"I should have known. Do you know why these clocks are so accurate?" Myx asked.

"Because of the pendulum. The length of the pendulum dictates the time of the period, the full swing of back and forth. The first pendulum clock was invented by Christiaan Huygens in 1637, although he never lived to see the final product."

I did it I beat Myx to the punch this time--before he could show off with his encyclopedic knowledge. I had just read up on the subject for just this purpose. Of course I'd forget it all within a week, unlike Myx who could remember things indefinitely with his synesthetic memory.

"Now who's tick talking," Myx said.

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Miracle Myx Remembers

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"I bet you can't name them all," I said.

"It's kinda cute sometimes--you know ... how you try to build some tension to make things interesting," Myx said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Myx." I used my huffy voice.

"You challenge me to name all the stores in this outdoor mall, and yet--you're the one that describes my memory in MIRACLE MYX. You, better than anyone knows what I can do."

Years ago I had read a book by a psychologist that described how a subject of his perfected an almost-perfect memory for the tiniest details. This person used his synesthesia to weave a complex web of sensations that correlated facts until they were retrievable down to the minutia. I had wondered how a person with this ability would act in a mystery. After I wrote MIRACLE MYX, I wondered no more.

"So you're saying, Myx, that you can name the stores easily?"

"Name the store--and every item and price in any store you dragged your sorry ass into today," Myx said.

"Sorry?"

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Miracle Myx Pow Wows

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"Not politically incorrect?" I asked.

"You wrote about this very thing in MIRACLE MYX, Dave," Myx said.

The Indian thing. Myx Amens is actually killed by an Indian in MIRACLE MYX. You can hear an audio excerpt called "The Indian" on my Myspace page along with a new audio excerpt I just posted called "Synesthesia."

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"I say in the book that even though its more correct to say 'Native American' now, he'll always be 'The Indian' to me," Myx said.

"I guess being killed by someone gives you some sort of rights to name them." I thought that kind of logic sounded good even if it carried no real intellectual weight.

"Tell everyone what your grandfather said the name of the lake means, Dave."

"My grandfather (George) always claimed it meant 'You fish on your side of the lake, I'll fish on mine--and no one fish in the middle.'"

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Miracle Myx Fowls Up

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"You're sure this is safe, Dave?"

"Define safe!"

"We don't need to meet any happy hunters," Myx said.

"Happy to see a brightly colored target?" I was rather enjoying Myx's concern for a moment.

"Those aren't backfiring cars we hear, Dave."

"When is the last time anybody heard a car backfire?"

"I thought the cliche fit perfectly and you would let it go," Myx said.

There were shots being fired, most likely hunters with shotguns trying to bag waterfowl in the early morning light. There would be several shots, and then fainter echoes.

I have just one piece of advice for you, Myx."

"Here it comes," Myx sighed.

"Duck!"

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Miracle Myx Springs

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"What's your favorite season, Myx?"

I think it's good to put a photo subject at ease by engaging in a little banter. It always makes for a more natural picture when trying to take a candid shot. I've gotten so good at this that no one ever notices what I'm doing.

"You're using banter to try and put me at ease while you take a candid shot, right?"

"Puh-lease! Would I be that transparent?"

"You--Mr. Window Pane? Never. But, answering your question--which, by this setting with the flowering bush behind me, I would guess you want me to say 'spring'--my answer is fall," Myx said.

"And why is that?" I might as well continue the line of conversation even though Myx is a hard one to obfuscate (yeah--I looked it up!).

"The air becomes crisp after the humid August days and nights, the leaves change colors, and--hey!"

As Myx realized what I was doing, I snapped this pic for you.

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Miracle Myx Cyles Through

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"This seat is uncomfortable," Myx said.

"As opposed to a cactus?"

"Hmmm. Maybe I can rethink this."

We were at the side of a local bike/walking path. This "art" piece had recently been installed. I, like you probably, have no idea what effect the officials in charge are going for.

"Nice color, don't you think, Myx?"

"You're baiting me, Dave."

"I didn't put one bicycle in MIRACLE MYX," I said.

"Not that I couldn't ride one if given the chance. How do I look up here?"

"Uncomfortable," I said.

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Miracle Myx Is Treed

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"You can hardly see me," Myx said.

"People know it's you after all this time."

"You mean just because it's my blog and there's always a photo of me here?"

"Our blog--and sure, out viewers can fill in the blanks if you've not quite as visible on one day. I think it makes for a more interesting shot, to tell you the truth," I said.

"Telling the truth again, are we?"

"Only when it helps," I said.

"You know what kind of tree this is, Dave?"

"That's a ruff one, Myx. I'll have to scratch my head and try and fetch and answer so you don't wag your finger--if you had a finger--at me."

"Dogwood, wiseass!"

"Do you know the myth about the dogwood, Myx?"

"About how the cross Jesus was nailed to was a dogwood and after that it never grew big enough to make another cross out of?"

Dammit! Why do I ever ask Myx any trivia?

"No," I countered, "the myth that any book that sits in its branches gets fleas."

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Miracle Myx Makes Tracks

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"Feel that?" Myx asked.

"Not feeling anything but the cool breeze, Myx."

"The rumbling, the ground vibrating--you're telling me you don't feel that?

"Nope. Quit the jitters--it's unmanly," I said.

"What do you know about being manly, Dave"

"I've read stuff," I said.

"Get me off the tracks and I'll tell all our readers all your good qualities," Myx said.

"Myx, you know I'm much too modest for that! And--we don't have that kind of time!"

"Was that a whistle?" Myx shouted.


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Miracle Myx Floats Like A Butterfly

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"Transform," I said.

"Is this gonna be a serious one?" Myx asked.

"With you?"

"Yeah--good point."

"Here you are, sitting above the very symbol of transformation, Myx. You want to tell our readers a little about your own transformation?"

"You know I'm too modest to go into details about what happens to me in MIRACLE MYX."

"OK, I'll give a little insight into--"

"You see, I had two life-changing events happen," Myx began.

It seemed that his false modesty had given away as soon as he saw I was going to take center stage and expound.

"The first gave me supercharged synesthesia, a mingling of my senses that lets me remember every detail I experience and replay them at will. The other left me sleepless."

"In Seattle?" I thought I'd inject a little levity (yeah--I looked it up!) into such an uncharacteristic litany by Myx.

"Seattle, Boston--and everywhere in between." Myx, of course, knew how to play along.

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Miracle Myx's Swan Song

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"The pen is mightier than the sword!" Myx said.

"I recognize the line, but--"

"That's from the 1839 play Richelieu by Edward Bulwer-Lytton."

Myx loves to show off his photographic memory. His synesthesia allows him to effortlessly retrieve words, images, voices, and even movements that he's experienced for the briefest time. I usually find it easiest to play along.

"That may be interesting to some information-starved recluse, but not me!" I blurted. I guess I wasn't in the mood to play along today.

"You want me to tell you how I fit that info in with this setting, Dave. Admit it!"

"I'm not the slightest bit curious, Myx," I said. I thought about it for a few seconds while framing the shot--then lowered the camera and asked: "OK--what's that line got to do with a swan?" Dammit!

"A pen is a full-grown female swan," Myx said with a flourish.

"That's a female?"

"Not the first time you've asked THAT question--is it, Dave?"

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Miracle Myx Weighs In

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"And, why are we here?"

"Myx, this is a fun theme--I got an idea how--"

"You're going to bring up how there are some weighty matters in MIRACLE MYX."

DAMMIT! I hate when Myx is right. How do I get out of this one?

"Wrong, smarty panties!" There--so far so good. "I wanted to show everyone that there's no fat in MIRACLE MYX--just pure protein--reading enjoyment," I said.

"I have to admit, Dave, for someone who can't think on his feet--that was pretty good."

"I thought so! ... I mean ... I'm insulted!"

"Back to the weighty theme thing:" Myx said, "why not just say what you imagined was so clever?"

I thought Why not?

"Besides explaining and showing synesthesia, MIRACLE MYX explores ambivalent morals, emotional survival, mysticism, and forbidden love. All, as you would say, weighty matters. Myx, anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?"

"All the time," Myx said.

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Miracle Myx Barrels Ahead

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"Careful," Myx said.

"You noticed how gently I leaned you in there," I said.

"Don't you think we've just about done the cactus thing to death, Dave?"

"If I were in contact with it, yes. As long as you're volunteering to--"

"When do I ever volunteer for your wacky pictures?"

"Would it kill you to play along once in a while?" I guess this is the kind of question I don't expect to be answered.

"You're thinking that that's a rhetorical question, aren't you?"

"No," I said. Hey, it's still not a crime to lie to a book in Arizona! "I'm thinking this thing has pretty flowers."

"This is a barrel cactus. Native Americans boiled young flowers to eat like cabbage and boiled the older ones for a drink. This is also known as a candy barrel cactus because they used to make candy out of its flesh."

Because of his brilliant synesthetic eidetic memory, Myx had an encyclopedic knowledge of--

"You're thinking how smart I am," Myx said.

"No I'm not," I replied.

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Miracle Myx Races On

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"You can't complain about this, Myx." I sounded confident.

"Can't--or won't?"

"I figured I'd give you a little rest after yesterday's encounter with the cactus. See! You're all better."

"So easy for you to say, Dave. You just put me in peril, regardless of the danger or discomfort, and--"

"You look good on that turtle, Myx." Why let him get started? That makes for a long day.

"Actually, this is a tortoise."

Bingo! I'd hit one of Myx's "soft" areas: his endless delight at recalling strange facts that had become indelibly inked onto his synapses because of his synesthesia. Even though he might have seen something just once in print or in person, Myx remembered it exactly, and in the greatest detail. I might as well let him continue.

"How can you tell?" Heh, heh!

"Although both turtles and tortoises belong to the division of reptiles called chelonians, turtles live near the water and entirely submerge themselves. Tortoises live in arid areas and walk on sandy ground. This looks sandy to me, Dave."

"I bet I remember that for well over an hour, Myx," I said.

"I wish I was on a turtle; they have flatter backs. Hurry up before I fall."

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Miracle Myx Is Stoked

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Although this old stove wasn't fired up, Myx already was. We had found, what I thought was an ideal spot for a photo--but Myx had objections. He thought it was too mundane. I on the other hand, thought it was rustic and hearkened back to an older era.

"Look, I even got the old cemetery in the background," I said.

"That was an accident."

"You don't think I know what's in the background of my shot?" I put just enough disbelief in my voice.

"How many shots have we had to do over or throw out because you had some extraneous matter or person included that ruined the whole thing?"

"Errr ... you got a number," I asked--even though I knew Myx, with his synsethetic memory, would have it nailed.

"This picture is growing on me," Myx said

"Aha! You don't know how many--"

"122," Myx 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 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 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 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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