And Since We Are Talking About Memory and Metaphor

Let us not forget about “losing your train of thought.” It seems to grow increasingly germane. I’ll be cruising along in my mind, cooking nicely, one thought leading to the next, occasional interesting leaps and cross overs. Then, wham, like a figure skater catching an edge, or Zion blowing out a sneaker, I jump the tracks - I mean completely. It’s not that I just lose track of what I was thinking about a few minutes ago over coffee up in the dining car, or who was ahead in Arlo’s card game with the old men in the club car, or what the Gambler was telling Kenny about holding or folding. No, nothing that simple - the whole freaking train is gone!  Empty rails behind me and leading forlornly ahead out to the horizon. 

If I stop cold and consciously think about nothing at all, I can sometimes catch a faint rumble vibrating up from the tracks. Maybe the shimmering of a phrase or the fragment of an idea. And if I’m really lucky I might glimpse a stray boxcar or a deserted caboose pulled off on the siding. But truth be told, that train is pretty much lost.

It is both frightening and frustrating. I mean it was my train. So, to guard against these disconcerting derailings, I have taken to carrying a spare brain with me. And by that I do not mean my “i”s - phone or pad - though both are usually close at hand. I mean a pocket-sized analog notebook with a pen clipped to it. Unlike its digital brethren, when I use these pages to scribble down notes regarding a few cars of a rumbling train of thought, the notebook brain neither corrects my punctuation nor suggests other tangentially related trains of thought that its algorithms indicate I might find equally intriguing! 

For example, last night, in a dream, I had written a couple of poems about chickens that my older brother - who fortunately remains quite alive in my dreams - found delightful. But when I tried to recite them for him, bam! Off the rails! Well, that might not be the best example. But you get the general idea. .  .  . So, damn .  .  . Where did I put my brain? Chickens, they were definitely about chickens, or maybe turkeys, Geese? Something with feathers. Or something we eat. Maybe beef?  Pizza? Where the heck is my freaking brain?