Huh?
Welcome to the inside of my mind. Sorry for the clutter. While in the realm of nonfiction, let me just say memory is a lousy filer. To the best of my recollections the following actually happened. Hopefully none of it will hold up in court, being hearsay from an unreliable witness.
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Festive is in the Eye of the Beholder
In Homeland Security databases it’s noted that classic American cars are terrorists’ preferred mode of transport for weapons-grade plutonium. Or they’re the vehicles of choice for human trafficking. Or they’re tagged as drug cartel automobiles. Or I could just be stretching the hyperbole a bit much. What do I know? I fit the profile of…
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Wild Time Loop Thing
In the 1970s photographer David Godlis took pics of restroom wall graffiti in the legendary NY punk club CBGB’s. I no longer recall those photos other than a few band names, yet it is telling that I was even interested enough to look at them. It would possibly lend relevance to an experience I had…
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Feather or Not
All the members of my family have supremely graceless moments on a regular basis. We all admit it: we’re klutzy. While I raced across the street once during rush hour to make the light, hands stuck in pockets, I tripped & face-planted in the crosswalk. The schadenfreude experience goes both ways. Upon standing back up,…
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Thief at the Jewels
Unless you’re one of the fewer than 100 people in the world with hyperthymesia, you probably don’t recall every minute of your existence. Hyperthymesiacs are gifted (?) with such enhanced autobiographical & episodic memory that they have the ability to recall in [excruciating] detail all their life experiences. I’d say this is some curse, especially…
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The Y-Files
From its first airing I followed Star Trek. I’ve read & watched a lot of sci-fi ever since. Not the type to go to conventions, or watch the DVD extras, or become fluent in Klingon. It’s just entertainment for me, not a lifestyle. I was not suited to study science during my formative public education…
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Parable of the Sewer
For dark times [Warning: The following contains scatological humor. Viewer discretion advised.] Though I have twinges of OCD, I’m no germaphobe. I’ve always been happily on the grubby side. Like a tidy slob, my clothes or home may look neat, but they are seldom clean. Never prissy about biological odors, I’m one of those who…
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Huh? 