I am extremely excited this morning. Why? I just had a bowl of Froot Loops. When was the last time y'all had a spoonful of this multi-colored loopage? It had been well over a decade for me, and I have to say, my taste buds must have missed the hell out of it. I've been flying around my apartment this morning like Toucan Sam. Or is that because of the Ecstasy?
Today, I'd like to talk to you about my Foxing the Witch quandry. If you click on my name on the homepage of my new book, Perfect From Now On: How Indie Rock Saved My Life, you'll come to a listing of the four books I've purportedly written. The big one listed there, and the one I urge everyone to buy at least one copy of ? cheaper than coal! read it and then use it to heat your home! ? is obviously Perfect From Now On, which just came out yesterday. (Once again, very briefly, it's about my life as an obsessed fan of music, and discusses such excellent bands as the Smiths, Pavement, the Shins, and My Bloody Valentine, and greatly details my recent fixation on Guided By Voices.) Two other books listed on the search page are Arcade Fever, a nicely designed tome about classic video games that I wrote in 2001, and PCAT: Preparation for the Pop-Culture Aptitude Test, which came out in 1998 and which I will admit to writing, even though I've repressed all memories of doing so.
And then there's Foxing the Witch. Here's how the 32-page book is described by another online retailer:
On Allhallows Eve a hungering witch and a poetical fox meet, seemingly by chance, below an old stone bridge. When the fox offers to foretell her future with a peculiar deck of cards, the luck of the witch takes a drastic turn. She is immediately plunged into a haunting quest peopled by an addicted dragon, an ardent fairy and a misogynous wizard. The witch named Mab, last of a line of witches of the same name, inhabits a world of larcenous hearts and ancient cruelties shadowed by colors of strange beauty. Her quest begins and ends with an enigmatic song:
The Dragon old, the Fairy cold,
Count each ancient emblem.
The Turtle jailed, the Lady veiled,
A witch's hand to bind them.
Fate, retribution and an invitation to breakfast all entwine at journey's end, under a misty rainbow of magical cards.
Now I haven't read the book, but I'm pretty sure that this "invitation to breakfast" doesn't involve Froot Loops. Since I haven't read what I'm sure is a fanciful tale, I don't know if it's worth your time or money. But one thing I'm very certain of: I did not write Foxing the Witch.
About a year ago, the author's wife e-mailed me after I mentioned the book on my blog, and we exchanged a few messages about the hilarity that has ensued when her husband and I have been credited with having written each other's work. And to be sure, my friends have found my association with a book called Foxing the Witch to be a source of great humor. "So, Sellers," someone will say to me, "foxed any witches lately?" Or, "Why didn't you call it Witching the Fox?" Or, "Dude, I read Foxing the Witch the other day and it's awesome, man. Best thing you've ever written. Why don't you write all your stuff when you're hepped up on goofballs?"
But this case of mistaken identity brings me to a much more important issue. Who can lay claim to being the world's most famous John Sellers? Sadly, no can do. Based on the hundreds of Google searches for my name that I perform each day, I'd estimate that I'm only the third or fourth best-known John Sellers right now. Numero uno is almost certainly Brother John Sellers, the deceased gospel singer who hung out with Bob Dylan in the 1960s. And of course there's the activist John Sellers who had a major part in the WTO riots in Seattle back in 1999. And there's this guy. That last one isn't more famous than I am, but come on ? check out that kick-ass refractor!
Maybe if I had in fact written Foxing the Witch, the huge publicity surge resulting from its publication would have pushed me over the top in the John Sellers fame game. So what I'm going to do from now on is just pretend I wrote the book and hang on tight as the ride out of obscurity gets wilder. Just don't ask me what Foxing the Witch is about. Even after reading the eloquent description above, I've got no clue.