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My brain is not a steel trap.

May 13, 2011

It’s more like a zip-lock baggie with a hole in it.

Wednesday was a slumpy day for me. At one point, I was actually too fatigued to watch television. Gah!

But I did accomplish this: ENDOMONDO
So I don’t feel too bad about it.

Then I treated “Arthur” (what my darling mother-in-law calls my arthritis) to a nice cocktail of anti-inflammatory and pain meds and things picked up a bit. I typically try to beat Arthur into submission with exercise, but sometimes he is just a rampant assclown and forces me to hit him with a tranquilizer dart.

To keep myself from falling asleep before five, I got Bahar (on the phone) to keep me company. We solved world hunger, cured all forms of political malfeasance, and she informed me that battered and fried asparagus is delicious.

As usual, the conversation led to: What are you reading?

I said that I was reading Mirror Ball Man (meh) and she asked if we had read something by Gregg Olsen in the recent past. Immediately, I thought he was the guy who wrote the book about the woods. I can’t remember if The Woods is the title or not, only that the first line of the book is “Every morning I watched my father take the shovel into the woods.”  Creepy right?

That didn’t seem like the right book, so I looked up the Gregg Olsen covers. I quickly found the cover of the book we’d read (and now I can’t remember the title but it was NOT the woods book) and read the blurb to ‘Har. We agreed that we had, indeed, read and loved that book.

Then a weird thing happened. (In case you haven’t noticed, I have practically no short-term memory.)

So I tell Bahar that the thing I  remember about the book is that the mother’s ringtone is Watching the Detectives by Elvis Costello.

Why do I know that? Why do I know that first sentence about the woods book? It got me thinking about other books I’ve read, bizarre little bits and pieces of characters and plot that don’t necessarily drive the story, but have embedded themselves in my brain.

All I know is that I want to do that thing as a writer … leave something behind, a grace note that floats in and out of memory or a sticky little detail.  This is me telling you in advance that I am trying to subliminally indoctrinate you with anomalous references and off-beat particulars.

Consider yourself warned. There will eventually be a quiz.

If I can remember to make one.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Bill S. permalink
    May 13, 2011 1:59 pm

    Hmmm……… very interesting, Annie. I remember reading a post somewhere about the author not being able to retain much in long-term memory…… but I don’t remember who it was or where I found it.


    Now that’s gonna bother me the rest of the day.


  2. May 13, 2011 3:16 pm

    your spooklight blog and the typewriter simile in which u write about, looking out the window, I will forever remember. that was brilliant the way u described it! I would have never even thought to compare it like that but you captured that moment brilliantly in that detail, and though, it had to be the scariest moment of your life that I remember, that part is just a coincidence….perhaps you do your best writing scared…maybe we should have another horroflic date?!?!

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