You walk into the room With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked And you, you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard But you don’t understand
Just what you will say When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You raise up your head And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says “It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?”
And somebody else says, “Well what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God Am I here all alone?”
But something is happening
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you When he hears you speak
And says, “How does it feel To be such a freak?”
And you say, “Impossible” as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You have many contacts Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
You’ve been with the professors and they’ve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read It’s well known
But something is happening here
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice he asks you how it feels
And he says, “Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan”
And you know something is happening
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Now you see this one-eyed midget Shouting the word “NOW”
And you say, “For what reason?”
And he says, “How?”
And you say, “What does this mean?”
And he screams back, “You’re a cow.
Give me some milk or else go home”
And you know something’s happening
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin’ around
You should be made to wear earphones
Because something is happening
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Leverage took a long time to boil down to what remains of it. In fact, arranging the scenes from Whammy Kiss to Leverage was difficult when it wasn’t tedious. As on several other occasions, I had The Sorceress handy to break up the spots where the exposition ran long but a set piece would’ve run far longer. A handy thing to have around when you need one, The Sorceress. Good lookin’, too.
I mentioned earlier that the scene Grim Anniversaries, now in Chapter 6 (Gravity) was the opening scene in early drafts. Wishing to mirror the opening and closing scenes, note the similarity between how Damron exits the building using the same route at the end of Mature and Complete. Grim Anniversaries and Mature and Complete still mirror one another in this respect – first scene/last scene, Damron departs the building via the exact same route, but with a different destination.
The very last edit to the story was among the most important. By ‘very last,’ I’m talking after ‘final’ editing and formatting, literally a day or two before publication.
I had named the Vernon character Varmint (explained in the comments to Man of Peace, earlier) but decided before editing to change the name. I changed Varmint’s name to “Jones.” I knew Ballad of a Thin Man would be the name of the final chapter, so Varmint became Jones, as in ‘something is happening but you don’t know what it is.’ I.e., Vernon wasn’t aware of my disability disclosure to the company, but the MP wanted me gone because I had Asperger’s and had caused the MP to endure massive inconvenience because I moved across the hall to the Doghouse.
When the book was all but finished, about ready to hit “publish” on Amazon, it hit me.
Notwithstanding Sandra in HR’s knowledge and Vernon’s lack of a clue (or willing collaboration), all kinds of things had happened to Damron, but he wouldn’t know what it is, because of Asperger’s, a narcissist boss, or a heaping helping of naivete.
Vernon wasn’t Mr. Jones, I was Mr. Jones.
The lyrics and the meaning behind them was identifying Damron, not Vernon.
Earlier that day, my Dad had mentioned a story about his longtime friend, Vernon, who I remember from childhood. I did a global search of “Jones” and replaced the name with “Vernon.” With that change made, the final edit of the manuscript was in the middle of Chapter 1 (bottom of page 9 in the paperback). After Jane introduces herself, Damron responds: “Yes indeed. I’m Damron Jones.”
We then published, and for whatever reason, maybe that divine intervention that seems to save me from time to time, the final edit “straightened the spine” of the story in my mind. I know this because the change gave me a weird feeling that’s impossible to describe but you know it when it happens—that closure feeling. That closure feeling is a good feeling, indeed.
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