Just Six?

Ane Mulligan has roused me with a breezy challenge: List six weird things about myself. My first response was, just six? For the record, I find most of these blogger threads tedious. But weird is up my alley. Anyway, at the risk of alienating the casual web-surfer or non-voyeuristic (is there such a person?), here goes:

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I have studied The Tibetan Book of the Dead, ingested hallucinogens, and (unsuccessfully) pursued “ego death” as a means to enlightenment (B.C. of course).

With the assistance of a midwife, I have delivered two babies. (Jon and Alayna were born at home, and now having attended Theo’s birth, I’ve been to five births: my kids and grandkid.)

I am obsessive about my keys — their place on the wall, what pocket they’re in, who’s using them. Unlike my wife, I have never flushed them down the toilet.

I am enamored with words and phrases. As such, I maintain two running lists — one on my handheld, the other on my home PC — in which I capture and compile exotic lingua. My latest: mawkish, homicidal ideations, stultify, cerebral grump, apocalyptic pronouncements and dismal. An unusual word or lyrical phrase is known to stop me in my tracks.

I am an insomniac, primarily as it relates to writing. 5-6 hours sleep is the average for me. Often, when wrestling with plots and characters, 4 hours will suffice.

I have attended an exorcism. (No, not my own!)