Thursday, March 08, 2012
Where does one go to find a lost mind full of lost time and lost words? Do you lift up the sofa cushions and dig through the loose change, wads of paper and bits of random crap? Is there a cardboard box at the police station or the post office tattooed with black sharpie?
This thought or rather this question rattles around in my empty head echoing and reverberating against the sides of my skull.
With most lost things they (who is they?) tell you to retrace your steps. Where did you last see your mind? Where might you have left it, dear? I trace backwards to my husband being taken from me and banned from the country, my wedding, being hit by a car, panic attacks unable to find my breath, my father's accident, deaths, births, the loss of my best friend, the loss of my self-confidence. All of this is painted with the brush of sleepless nights, of worry, of self-doubt and of deep joy and deep loss, deep depression and paralysis.
Somewhere along the line, the circuitry got fried and the mind escaped to save itself, jumped overboard to try its luck with the sharks and Portuguese man o' wars. The search party was too exhausted to look for long and the mind washed up on some distant shore, but alas, we shall find it and stuff it back. It wasn't too much of a loss as no one seemed to really notice it was gone.
I am working on the last two songs in my Eat My Shorts series. The current one is aptly named Crazy. coming soon.