It wasn't pleasant.
Most of the time, it was downright scary as fuck. I suppose I wasn't exactly a puss, as far as little kids go. In fact, I was a bit of an explorer, and ghosts, strangers and injuries didn't really worry me all that much. I wandered around, climbing on shit that probably should have killed me, talking to people who should have kidnapped and butchered me, and exploring places that were probably haunted a million times over, without a lot of fear of those things.
But there was a boogie man, and I was terrified of him. He was very real, very much a threat, and I knew that the grown ups around me were useless when it came to protecting me from him.
And in that respect, it wasn't pleasant. Most of the time, it was downright scary as fuck.
I spent countless hours wandering 600 acres in a bit of a fantasy world, talking to myself, and to my sweet doggies, to the point that I'm sure my mother and sister wondered if I wasn't crazy or mentally retarded half the time.
The rest of the time I spent sitting alone in my room, with a collection of songs that can only be described as "odd" for a nine-year-old kid.
Some of them I understood fully.
Some of them left me without a clue, but I knew that they were serious, by golly.
Here
And, here.
This little guy...
And one more, for good measure...
And somehow, those funny little songs, (and basically every other song included on those albums, since I was just a kid, with a very limited cassette collection) made it all not-so-scary for a minute.
Well, that, and my life-size Kirk-Cameron-in-a-leather-jacket-poster...mmm. Mike Seaver...
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