Time On My Hands
Chapter One
From: Time On My Hands
I have some time on my hands. There is no better way to describe my situation.
As I write these words - whose writing may turn out to be an act of utter
self-indulgence - I sit at a rustic table in a primitive cabin in the woods
outside Corvallis. Having spent virtually every day of my life in one city or
another, I must tell you it is strange and quite lonely here, that I feel
utterly out of place, that my only solace is in knowing soon, one way or
another, I'll be leaving.
I should tell you an important thing about myself. I don't wish at this early
juncture of the story to seem ostentatious, but as a child I had a very clear
sense that I was destined to do something exceptional. There was never a
specific vision: I didn't daydream about becoming president or discovering a
cure for cancer. I was just a well-balanced boy who had (considering that I had
no parents) a fairly normal, happy childhood, during which I strongly felt
something singular was in store for me.
A memory has come bouncing into my head this minute, a moment I hadn't recalled
in twenty ... read full excerpt from Time On My Hands ebook
