“How to Kill Harry”
A literary novel,
Will be available next week.
Excerpt:
1:00 pm
Emerald and Cole
Personal truth lights up the mind like fireworks on the fourth of July. It’s an explosion that separates all other thoughts that are spoon fed and twisted. Manipulated ideas of safety, virtue and false morality are sent to the void and discarded with the Sunday morning trash. When personal truth makes itself known, nothing else matters.
The process can be long and arduous or introduced at a moment’s notice. There is no methodology, secret learning, sage, how-to book or any other tool to help one reach their instant of truth. Truth works at its own pace and for the most part, shows up at the most inopportune times.
For Harry Fein, it started with sirens in the afternoon. Usually the sound of sirens placed Harry in a state of wonder about who was living and dying, but today he felt nothing. Harry listened to the sirens and kept on smoking cigarettes. He was out of coffee, which was the only thing that mattered at the moment.
Harry’s mind, for the most part, was always filled with scenes from one encounter or another. He constantly went over every nuance of communication, which was an endless jumble of thoughts keeping him preoccupied as the world went by. Harry rarely thought about mundane things, although his life was the very definition of routine. One might even consider Harry to be the very essence of unexciting, in spite of his penchant for constantly moving from one town to the next. As soon as someone started to get to know him, he would pick up and move. Moving for Harry Fein was the very definition of his 38 years.
Being commonplace brings to mind the thought of doing the same thing over and over. The very idea could be someone who works nine to five, watches TV every night until they fall asleep and once a year goes on vacation. Vacation is a slot in time where you get to do the same thing, with the advantage of not clocking in. In Harry’s case, moving was the one thing he did repetitively. It was a choreographed boredom of giving notice and then starting all over again: another town, another state, another country, his version of nine to five. Oddly enough, Harry had never been on vacation.
