Feb 8, 2013

She Kept Her Head in a Closet and My Heart in the Fridge

I'm too afraid to go to bed at night and even more afraid of getting up in the morning. My wife's double is everywhere I turn.

Only I seem to know her smiles are fake. So too her loving words. A perfect copy of Yolanda, right down to the pores.

Spirit of the Vale of Neath
by Thomas Hornor
via BibliOdyssey

You could go two separate ways with this premise:

Either a)

The narrator's wife is a doppelgänger of the real wife, in which case you'd have a supernatural story

or b)

You could use this premise to explore that strange neurological disorder (its name eludes me right now) where people believe that they are still human but everyone else around them has been replaced by, um, working copies. Fakes. Naturally, there's option c), where you blow the competition out of the water by writing a story that breaks the mold -- these two molds, the supernatural and the psychological.

[As expected, Wikipedia maintains an extensive list of neurological disorders. Speaking of the Wiki, they're conducting a fundraiser. If you believe what they're doing, donate a little something today. What's Wikipedia worth to you? A $5 album from bandcamp? The price of a macchiato?]

An interesting kind of doppelgänger exists in Scandinavian folklore, the vardøger -- a "spiritual predecessor," i.e., a double who shows up before you and... does things on your behalf, I suppose. Richard Gere's character John Klein in The Mothman Prophecies (one of the best supernatural/ghost stories ever told on film) is preceded in Point Pleasant by his vardøger.

When the real John Klein shows up, he nearly gets shot in the face.

I love the scenes where Klein talks to Indrid Cold on the phone. Hmm. Must watch the movie again. Some movies are like novels, others like poems or songs. The latter kind you can just savor over and over again, because the story doesn't matter so much. It's the music, the diction.

John Klein's loss of his beloved Mary resonates with me. So does his willingness to get to the bottom of a profound mystery.

Time to wrap this up.
Beat-maker Jon McIntosh, who goes by the pseudonym Plains Druid, has decided to follow me on Twitter. Which is great, because I might not have found his music otherwise. Here's a taste of arizonacore.

This song started playing immediately afterwards. Suffice it to say: Somebody should use this in their arthouse movie. It's beautiful and evocative.

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