Sesame and Chalamet

...a dispatch from bewilderness

In my first life, I wrote good lines. Or, if someone thought they weren’t good, they were fault lines. My words. My fault.

Then I became a bit of a hermit, rather a semi-reclusive/demi-hermette/freelance writer. Like what you’d get if you combined:

A century of coral reef

A caper or two

A cross word

A code

A quad cane

A covenant.

Plus the cuddly oddballs of “Sesame Street" in a scene in which Bert suffers stage fright, Ernie wanders off to take a bath and someone blue eats the first two letters of the alphabet song.

Or what you’d get if you combined the above and added:

Atmospheric lensing

Atmospheric cleansing

A slow build

A clueless man

A few clueless men, even a clueless man of the cloth;

A bonafide movie star with a hazardous level of charm if he is a guy

And stilettos if she’s a girl;

A one-of-a-kind, first-of-its-sort, decades-long career

A high profile someone or other,

A cringeworthy moment

A plague or two

A playful and captivating on-ramp to something

A performance, by turns spiky, silly, and sympathetic

An upright, uptight riff on pride and prejudice,

A hunk at his bad-boy best with his bad-boy jeans and chest and hair like Hugh Grant meets Timothee Chalamet at least 40 years older than now

Plus a non-cookie-cutter plot.

Imagine Timothee Chalamet as he will look about 40 years from now

Then added:

An occasional 3-dimensional female protagonist

A strong supporting cast

A person with a disability

Frontrunners

Dark horses

Long shots

Someone(s) who fries an egg that begins sunny side up but ends scrambled

Like everything else,

A woman who becomes a ghost, as in ghostwriter, because she likes to see but not be seen.

Then sprinkled in:

Santa,

The Easter bunny,

A book that could be called “Is It Just Me? Or Is It Nuts Out There?”

What would you get? The story of a life. Not Timothee Chalamet’s life or Ernie’s, but someone a bit like me.