Inside my little chamber at home I have my own shelf for special books. When it's late and I'm all alone in my little chamber, Neil comes out to me, silent and inviting.When he does that, I cannot resist. I just bend my head towards the shelf and look at Neil with his words and utterly many books. I walk over to my little neverwear and pick up one of the Neils I got. Usual the Neil I pick is the Neil that calls out to me.
I never pick a Neil myself.
Neil picks me.
So I sit down. I read the words of Neil. I fall and fall into the world he creates for me there and then. I'm the Other Mother. I'm Coraline, and I'm in London. I'm Nobody Owens. I'm actually nobody. Thats perfect. Like Jack of all Trades I walk trough his written society alone. My wife loves fiction without the fantasy. My kids read the Humpty dumtpy and the Woddly doodly.
I travel with Neil.
Am I a stalker?
Yes I am.
But in a nice way.
I stalk the real Neil on Twitter. I follow his every step, at least the steps he let me follow. And I enjoy the road he is taking me. I enjoy listening to the fireplace in Scotland, and I loved the boredom in the Globes. I celebrated the engagement, and I smiled when he wanted the second generation iPad. I cried when dad died, and I held around my cat when Zoe was released. I cheer every nomination.
So I stalk, but in a good way. I stalk the ones that let me stalk them.
So every night, Neil call upon me. I sit down with him, and as sudden as a paper turn, he sits besides me, reads his work loud. Only the Itunes between us.
Lovely.
Get out of here you say!
Absolutely.
Lovely crazy - for let me be plain out clear
I love Neils work and his amazing crazy hair.
So I love my little special place in my special shelf. I love when Neil comes around. Whether he comes with good news about marriage or scary stories with the fireplace as the sole lightsource.
Sometimes the journalist wake me up. He asks: Why is this Neil so great? What does he have, that all the other thousands of hardworking writers don't?
Well: The answer is easy. Neil is ingeniously simple in his choice of words, he is honest, thrilling and fun. I love fun. Therefore I love Neil.
As simple as that.
I never pick a Neil myself.
Neil picks me.
So I sit down. I read the words of Neil. I fall and fall into the world he creates for me there and then. I'm the Other Mother. I'm Coraline, and I'm in London. I'm Nobody Owens. I'm actually nobody. Thats perfect. Like Jack of all Trades I walk trough his written society alone. My wife loves fiction without the fantasy. My kids read the Humpty dumtpy and the Woddly doodly.
I travel with Neil.
Am I a stalker?
Yes I am.
But in a nice way.
I stalk the real Neil on Twitter. I follow his every step, at least the steps he let me follow. And I enjoy the road he is taking me. I enjoy listening to the fireplace in Scotland, and I loved the boredom in the Globes. I celebrated the engagement, and I smiled when he wanted the second generation iPad. I cried when dad died, and I held around my cat when Zoe was released. I cheer every nomination.
So I stalk, but in a good way. I stalk the ones that let me stalk them.
So every night, Neil call upon me. I sit down with him, and as sudden as a paper turn, he sits besides me, reads his work loud. Only the Itunes between us.
Lovely.
Get out of here you say!
Absolutely.
Lovely crazy - for let me be plain out clear
I love Neils work and his amazing crazy hair.
So I love my little special place in my special shelf. I love when Neil comes around. Whether he comes with good news about marriage or scary stories with the fireplace as the sole lightsource.
Sometimes the journalist wake me up. He asks: Why is this Neil so great? What does he have, that all the other thousands of hardworking writers don't?
Well: The answer is easy. Neil is ingeniously simple in his choice of words, he is honest, thrilling and fun. I love fun. Therefore I love Neil.
As simple as that.
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