A true story, Part 1

Last night the computer crashed.

I lost the novel, seven years of work. The first 162 pages I'd thrown into the fireplace in Wyoming in 2009 and started over, but that was my choice. Now, I was near the end, 300 pages and counting.

Typing, sitting in my Eames chair, coming closer and closer to what I thought to be very near the end of the 80,000 word-plus opus, having wrung all the wrong words out of it, having sat on the thing and squished all the falseness and pretense I possibly could from the document, the phone rang. I picked it up while holding a fistful of almonds. One of the almonds fell, striking the keyboard in such a way as to obliterate the text. Suddenly all that was in front of me on the computer screen was a blank white space.

Astonishment was followed by anger, anger by disbelief, disbelief by panic. As I was tired and it was late, I had the presence of mind not to attempt a rescue.

As the clock indicated that it was well past midnight, I had very little choice other than to accept my fate, writing in a little notebook I keep by my bed, 'o well, my computer just swallowed 8 years of fun. Once in bed, I read a little Herta Muller and went to sleep.

Somehow I slept, an accomplishment noted the next morning by my mate, but the dreams were brutal.

In the most vivid dream a bunch of old Army generals, hopped up on cigars and single-malt scotch, came looking for me. They'd been testing their artillery late at night in The Presidio and I'd made a complaint to the Park Ranger. Now they'd come to kill me.

A half dozen of them knocked on my door. They were all dressed up, in full regalia, epalets and medals, tassels and braids. They were old, it's true, but had strong chins.

Not having time to put on any clothes, I answered the door, naked.

"I'm a poet," I said, leave me alone."

I'd said the right thing apparently, without premeditation and from my heart. The generals apologized for the disturbance and for waking me, then each of them saluted and walked off into the night.

(To be continued).