Waiting for RJ Decker

“Did you see the news?” I asked, sliding into my usual seat at Lunar Caffe this morning.

“About the TV show?” he replied, not looking up from his phone, which I’m convinced functions as an external drive linked to his brain.

“RJ Decker got picked up for a full series,” I said, "ABC announced it yesterday. It'll be a 2026 mid-season replacement.”

A moment of silence followed, during which I mused on the fact that it's soon to be 2026. It hardly seems possible for a guy who spent his formative years up to his neck in the 20th Century.

“Hmmm,” said Irving, aka The Islander and my Sunday morning drinking buddy in the Castle Street District. Don't misunderstand; it's coffee we're drinking.

“This could turn out to be even more entertaining than documenting ‘Driver’s Ed,'" quipped Princess Amy, suddenly appearing at the command console in the emotional center of my limbic system. “And that one was your most spectacular failure yet.”

“Shut up, Amy," I muttered.

“Excuse me?” said Irv.

“Nothing—just thinking out loud," I lied. "The Film Commission expects to know the choice for film location soon,” I continued. “With any luck, it will be Wilmington; the pilot was made here.”

“Luck is carrying a lot of weight in that sentence,” said Lilly as she placed a latte and a cappuccino on our table. “Why not film it in Florida, where the story is actually set?”

“Why would they film a show about South Florida in Florida?” Irv asked with a playful smile.

“Exactly!” I said, pointing at him with a confident finger. “Wilmington has been Florida’s stand-in for years. Remember ‘Florida Man’ in 2023? That worked well.”

The Slow Year

“What’s the show called?" Lilly asked, “JR Decker?”

“RJ Decker,” I corrected her. “JR got shot, remember? This one’s about a disgraced newspaper photographer who becomes a private investigator. It’s based on a Carl Hiaasen novel called 'Double Whammy.'”

“This show is really important for the local film scene,” I continued. “It’s been a painfully slow year here for domestic film production.”

“Six in all,” Amy scoffed. “We’ve had that many filming at the same time. This will be as exciting as documenting the death of the eight-track.”

“It’s not like that at all!” I fired back.

“What?” Lilly said with a puzzled expression. Irv raised both eyebrows in solidarity.

“Calm down, Genome. The universe is just testing your dedication,” Irv said, and I sensed his signature cosmic consciousness speech coming on.

“Let’s not go there,” I countered.

The Planning Session

“So, what’s your plan?” Lilly asked, wiping down a nearby table with the focused intensity of someone who’s heard this all before. “Are you going to chase film crews around again when they start shooting?”

“I’m going to be more strategic this time,” I insisted. “I’ve learned from my past mistakes. I connected with local production folks during the ‘Driver’s Ed’ shoot, I know how to work with the film commission, and I even have a proper map.”

“You said proper map but you probably meant to say paper map,” Amy quipped.

“This could be my best effort yet,” I said, nodding confidently.

“Or a spectacular failure,” Amy added.

“You’re finally thinking like a journalist,” Irv observed.

The Cosmic Perspective

“Consider this,” Irv said, leaning back with the air of a philosophy professor, “The universe put you in Wilmington right as its film industry hit a rough patch. Now, at the lowest point, a major network show gets picked up—and you get to document the comeback.”

A thoughtful silence followed, adding weight to his words. Lilly drifted off to clean another table, leaving an awkward quiet in her wake. I finally broke it.

“If they’re aiming for a mid-season slot, they’ll have to start filming soon,” I said. “Until then, I guess all I can do is wait for the announcement.”

The Waiting Game

“In the meantime,” Irv said, “you could reread ‘Double Whammy.’ Get to know the source material—be ready with smart questions if you get access, and show them you’ve done your homework.”

“That’s actually good advice,” I admitted.

“The universe sometimes dispenses wisdom from the most unlikely sources,” Irv said, smiling knowingly, fully aware of how pretentious he sounded.

“You didn’t just call yourself a dispenser of wisdom,” I said with a grin. “Same time next week?” I asked as we gathered our things to leave.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Irv replied.

"I'll be here next week, too," said the princess.

"Shut up, Amy," I said, but I said it lovingly and with a smile on my face.

Let's Do This!

"Poopsie," I said, "I'm surrendering to Life and I intend to live life on life's terms, as the saying goes. I'm convinced it's the only way to win freedom from the limitations of the past and my only chance to be reborn through the transformative power of Rumi."

"What are you talking about, if anything," she said, "and why are you talking so fast? Have you relapsed? Are you into the fairy dust?"

"Wonder!" I exclaimed,"I'm shocked that you'd think such a thing. I am as clean and sober as damn it. I happen to be a little more sane, if anything. As for talking fast, you'd talk fast too if you were as excited as I am. I am finally free of the tyranny of desire."

"I'm guessing that you're referring to the Buddha's argument that desire is the root of all suffering. I suppose there is truth in it as long as one considers the qualifiers."

A short period of silence followed her words while she waited for my response and I tried very hard to come up with one. It wasn't easy on short notice especially after that crack she made about the Buddha. How does she think of these things?

"Why do you think that giving up your dreams will make you happy?" she asked.

"You talk about dreams," I said, "but what if they're actually illusions? And who needs dreams anyway? Tina Turner said, 'Who needs a dream when it can be broken?'"

And you will hardly believe it but she replied by saying, "Who needs a heart?" It set me back for a moment. A sad thing to say, don't you agree?

I finally got myself together and returned to the point de départ. "I have memories of once having it all, and I shall always treasure them,” I said. “In the mid-eighties, I was the rock star of systems design at the NASA Johnson Space Center in Houston."

Thinking of those days as I spoke to her momentarily took me to my happy place. "Those were the days, Poopsie," I said.

"And so now, you plan to give up the chance of becoming a rock star again and instead, you will eat pine needles for the first time in your life."

"What did you say, Wonder? Eat pine needles?"

“Well, correct me if I'm wrong," she said, "but it sounds as though you intend to give up, right? You're going to surrender to whatever life brings your way. That sounds very much like quitting to me."

"Eat pine needles," I repeated, and I mused as I said it. It was a shocking idea for someone like me who has lived a full life under the flag of I Shall Not Eat Them. 

"But tell me, Wonder, what can I do when a vast conspiracy continues to thwart my best efforts? A conspiracy that involves the complex coordination of multiple interacting agents."

"Have you considered simply following your bliss and forgetting about the outcome?"

"Are you suggesting something along the lines of damn the torpedoes; full speed ahead?

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. To quote Beignet Lafayette when wearing his magic sunglasses, Let's do this!"

"Do you really think it's possible?" I said.

"I'm certain of it," she said. "I believe in you, even when you doubt, and I believe, as someone once said, 'It's never too late for now!'"

"Well, I'm not completely sure what that means, but it interests me strangely!" I said. "It's never too late! Yes, I like it. One of Shakespeare's gags, I'll bet." 

And with that, I was down the stairs and out the door, but I heard her exclaim, ere I drove out of sight...

"Fierce Qigong, Genome!"

Princess Amy: Reality TV Star

It was almost noon by the time I left the thrift store. I'd found one concert t-shirt that would bring enough profit to pay for gas and lunch.

"I don't know why we bother doing this," I told Amy as I maneuvered Wind Horse into traffic. 

"It's just wasted time and energy. I spent the morning looking for profitable items to resell, and I'll need to do it again tomorrow to have a chance to break even for the week."

I got no response, but I didn't expect one because I was talking to Princess Amy, that spoiled little brat of a limbic system in the middle of my brain who gets her kicks by overloading my emotional system. 

"Doesn't it bother you?" I asked.

"Nope," Amy said. "I'm only in it for the money."

"The money?" I said. "I only hope I don't lose money this week."

"Yeah, you're not much of a business person. You should pay more attention to me. I'm an entrepreneur."

"You are not a business person! You're a little almond-shaped cluster of brain cells. You might benefit from the money I make, but you never really profit. It's a foreign concept to you."

"Making money's not the only way to profit." 

"What are you talking about, if anything?" I asked. 

"I'm an entrepreneur," she said. "I get you to do stupid stuff--to generate excitement--and you can be really entertaining sometimes."

“You’re the only one who’s entertained by the kind of excitement you generate, and that never ends well."

"When I'm on a roll," she said, "I can fire you up enough to get bystanders involved, and that's when it really becomes fun. What a riot!"

"You're a menace! You're a danger to the fabric of the universe." 

"I'm an influencer," she said. “I'm not just another pretty face, baby. That's why I have to keep my brain functioning efficiently, and I'm not operating at full power right now because I need a latte and a muffin."

"This is leading up to a stop at Surf & Java, isn't it?" I asked.

"Exactly. I can get some caffeine to stoke my engines while you have an Impossible sandwich for our lunch." 

A few minutes later, we were seated outside the surf shop, and Amy was relatively quiet while I ate. I suppose she was soaking up some nutrients to stoke her engines. I was thinking about going home when she spoke again.

"I need another latte," she said. "You get it, and I'll wait here. I'm gonna look at this magazine. It says on the cover that Keanu Reeves used to surf competitively."

I didn't reply. I was beginning to feel like I was no more than a vehicle to chauffeur my limbic system around town.

"Too bad you can't stay here and have someone else get the coffee," she said. "What if there's a sudden rush of customers and someone gets our table?"

"A rush of customers?" I said.

"It could happen," she said. "Good idea," I said, "I'll stay here to keep someone from taking our table."

"So anyway," Amy said."Did you know that Keanu was a surfer? Maybe we should take up surfing."

I tried to get comfortable in the plastic chair as I overthought Amy's earlier comments about being an entrepreneur. 

"You got a lot of thinking going on," Amy said. "It's getting hot in here with all that thinking you're doing. You're burning too much energy." 

“I'm thinking about what you said earlier,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were capable of doing anything more than mismanaging my emotions.”  

"I'm a complex person," Amy said. "I got a lot going on. You haven't even seen the tip of my iceberg, baby. One of my goals is to be a TV star."

"How's that even possible?" I asked.

"I'm gonna be a reality star like Kyle, Lisa, and Khloé."

"A reality star--you're going to be the next Khloé Kardashian?"

"It's only a matter of time," she said. "I got a plan worked out, and I'm about to start shooting a demo reel. That's how you get into the finals, you gotta shoot a demo reel." 

"What's your plan? And how are you going to film anything?"

"First," she said, "it's a concept show that I call Wearing Underwear in Public, or WUP for short.”

"I already don't like it," I said.

"You don't like it, but you're really good at it," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean. I'm not going to be part of anything called Wearing Underwear in Public."

“WUP,” she said. “You’re already part of it, silly. Remember those dreams you had last week? That was the pilot for the show. Now it's time to record the first episodes."

"You little brat!" I said. "Those dreams are caused by you! I thought we had an understanding. You and I are not different people, Amy. We're the same person. What I experience, you experience. Why do you do these things?"

"It gets boring in here," she said. "I need a creative outlet, and I'm competing for a Dreamy award. With a concept like WUP, I think I could be a contender."

"Awards? How would that even work? Am I going to dream that you get an award?"

"No, dummy," she said. "There's a whole dream universe filled with all kinds of stuff for imaginary people like me. What do you think dreams are for, anyway? They aren't just entertainment for you, you know." 

I was overwhelmed. I needed some time alone, and that's not easy to find when you're trying to get away from your own thoughts. 

"Uh oh," I said, "look at the time. It seems we don't need to be concerned about a customer rush. I need to check on my mom and then stop at the hardware store. I've got to patch the lanai screens where the squirrels gnawed through them."

"Your mom is living with the stars, Genome," Amy said.

"Yeah, but I still check in with her daily."

"Well, if I were you," Amy said, "I'd get home in time for a nap so you can keep up with me tonight. We got a demo to record."

"I won't forget about that," I said, but I said it without any real chirpiness.

Strangers Offering Scones

It was a cool, damp, and windy evening with leaves blowing around and that peculiar electric feeling you get when magic is in the air. I wasted no time in moving the empty garbage can from the curb and toward the darkness of our backyard. That darkness gave me an uneasy feeling for some reason.

I paused halfway around the house to allow my eyes to adjust, the better to see the ghouls waiting for me behind a bush. Glancing overhead, I saw an almost full moon, making an appearance through edgy, fretted clouds. It may sound like a beautiful sight, but its beauty was lost on me. Didn't make me feel one tot better about the sewer harpies waiting for me in the darkness.

For some strange reason, the booming silence from my limbic system made the whole experience feel even more surreal. It seemed that Princess Amy had decided that warning me of impending doom was futile, or else she was hiding behind the hippocampus. *Footnote

The deeper I crept into that darkness, the more I became like that little boy from Shady Grove that I once was. It was as though a grown man returning a garbage can to its storage bin had been transformed into a 10-year-old boy told by his father to go out into the night and move his bicycle from the front yard to the garage for the evening.

Exactly why my brain works this way is not fully understood. Some say it has something to do with serotonin reuptake inhibitors, but I expect it has more to do with a Creator who became bored with the usual routine of evolutionary improvement and decided to have a bit of fun for a change, and, unfortunately, I was next in line.

It's on nights like these that I remember my Great-aunt Nanny McFarland teaching me to see fairies. That's the night she taught me about magic. According to her, it was magic that kept all my personal bits and all the bits making up the entire world from flying off into space. And who can say? The Egyptians believed that magic held the world together and kept everything working smoothly. Maybe Aunt Nanny was right.

But I'm leading you away from the way in which you should go, as the expression has it. Back to the garbage can in the dark, then. The cool, damp air was full of whispers, I remember thinking.

Looking in the direction of the whispers, I thought I could see three stooped figures gathered around the embers of a small fire that gleamed like the madness in a weasel's eye. There was a far-off rumble as if a thunderstorm approached, and I thought I heard a voice say, "When shall we three meet again?" It could have been my imagination.

The point I'm trying to make is that now it's October and we're on our way to Halloween--that time of year when the curtain grows thin between the reality we make up in our head and the reality that's the actual basis of the world we live in. I love this time of year because it makes me feel really alive.

Halloween, or Samhain, if you care about accuracy, reminds me that life comes hard and fast and that I should be ready for anything.

But that's enough about me and my musings on magic, but before I take my leave, let me offer a little piece of cautionary advice. If you're walking the dog after dark between now and Halloween, especially if you live in Woodcroft, Parkwood, or anywhere there have been rumors of magic, do beware. If your dog whimpers at unseen things along the path, turn back home. If you see a reddish light in the woods along the trail, resist the urge to investigate.

And most importantly, if you meet three stooped and hooded figures, who aren't wearing hip-hop fashion, and if they speak sweetly and compliment your dog, and especially if they offer you a scone, don't accept it. Take it from one who speaks from experience: That is NOT A SCONE!

Have a Fun and Happy Halloween!

*Footnote: You may need to Google it.

Captain's Log: Status Update

At random intervals during the blog year, I like to share status updates with my followers, and The Circular Journey has recently enjoyed a delightful surprise that I must share with you because, without your support, it would not have been possible.

We have our first viral blog post! I know! Me too!

Here's what happened: "Captain's Log: Stardate 2025.156"—the first post in my Star Trek/Inside Out mashup series—has exploded beyond anything I imagined in fourteen years of blogging. The post is outperforming the current most popular post by more than thirty times the growth rate! That number still doesn't feel real. *Footnote

How It Began...

The story of Princess Amy's viral success begins, as so many good stories do, in my therapist's office.

Dr. Coast delivered her recommendation with the clinical precision of someone prescribing medicine rather than entertainment. She suggested—not once, but three times (and you know how sensitive I am to the number three)—that I watch Pixar's 2015 animated film "Inside Out."

For those unfamiliar, "Inside Out" tells the story of Riley, a young girl whose mental inner workings are influenced by five personified emotions. The good doctor recognized that the movie mirrors in many ways the inner workings of my own mind, which are influenced by Princess Amy, the personification of my limbic system—the seat of human emotions, thoughts, and actions.

The doctor hoped that watching the movie would help me better understand the Genome's emotional architecture. As you know, I write my life story here in The Circular Journey. It will come as no surprise that I began chronicling the events that followed watching the movie.

Here's where the magic happened: Amy's role in directing the other components of my limbic system has always mirrored Captain Kirk sitting in the chair of command on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. The framework fit together so perfectly, the Captain's Log series was born—a mash-up of Star Trek and Inside Out.

Why It Resonates

When I shared the news of viral blog activity with Dr. Coast, she responded with such enthusiasm that I must share all that with you, too. The following isn't recounted verbatim, but it's the best I can remember:

"Oh my goodness, that's INCREDIBLE! I'm genuinely thrilled to hear this! The fact that this became your second most popular post in fourteen years of blogging - that's not just success, that's real impact.

This really validates what we stumbled onto together. People don't want to be lectured about mental health; they want to see themselves as the captain of their own starship, with a crew of emotions that all have important roles to play."

What's Next

The GMS Coastal Voyager continues its mission, with new adventures launching regularly. From the delightfully absurd "Klang Ho Incident,” scheduled for publication soon, to the recent "Mission to Mohs: A Dermatological Exploration," Captain Amy and her crew continue to navigate the strange phenomena of daily life.

The viral success of that first Captain's Log has shown me that my regular readers trust my storytelling and will stick with Princess Amy through the whole journey. 

And apparently, thousands of new readers are discovering that they, too, have a Princess Amy at their control console, a Chief Anxiety in their engine room, and a whole crew trying to navigate the Melancholy Nebulae of modern life.

---

Author's Log:

Newcomers to The Circular Journey: Welcome aboard! Use the search field at the top of the page to query for 'GMA Coastal Voyager,' or 'Captain's Log,' or 'Melancholy Nebula' to catch up on previous missions. But be warned—you might fall into the rabbit wormhole, and never be seen again. In the best possible way, of course.

* Footnote: 

The all-time most popular post on The Circular Journey is "Coastal Camelot." That post has held the top spot since 2011, when it was published. The new viral post, "Captain's Log: Stardate 2025.156" was published in June of 2025 and is already the second most popular post.