Lost and Found

I told her, “You know how sometimes people say, Oh man, I’ve really lost it. Well, I was wondering, if they lost it, and you found it, could you just keep it as a spare? If so, where would you put it? If you added it to yours then you would have twice as much, right? Then if you yourself lost it, you would be okay. Of course, if someone loses it, and then finds out you found it, but then you re-lost it, you might have to give them yours, and then you really will have lost it. Then somebody might find out that you lost it, and want to sell it back to you, or maybe they give it to a friend. A lot of our friends lose it, so this act of charity is understandable.

“I lost it the other day, and I went to the lost and found at the Port Authority, and they seemed to understand as they just kept nodding their heads. They said they didn’t have it, but would make a phone call, then told me, “Sir, we have some people coming who can help you find it.” Such nice people, and I was super happy about this, because I had no idea where I might have put it, but thought they might bring dogs to help sniff it out. They didn’t. They took me to this place where they keep other people who have lost it. A kind of lost, but no-found center.

“Anyway, the first guy I meet is the one who lost it, and I found it, and then had to give him mine. So, I asked him, ‘What happened?’ He said he lost it again. I thought that was really irresponsible. I mean, it’s one thing for you to lose it, but then you take mine, and lose that too? Well, I was not very happy, and would have lost it right there had I had it to lose again in the first place.

“Frustrated, there was only one thing to do. I called my mom. I asked her if I could borrow hers to get me out of this place, and promised to give it right back. She said she lost it a long time ago, but nobody could tell the difference, but she understood, and would see if she knew anybody who could help. She did. She sent my cousin, who never ever lost it, and when he came down, he let me borrow his, and so, since I found it, they let me out, but put him in. As soon as I got out I gave it back to my cousin, and they made us switch places once more. Apparently you can’t share it, so you either have it, or you don’t.

“As a last resort, I went to the library they had there, and found an article by a team of researchers who were always looking for it. They had an experimental program that I applied for. They were looking for transplant volunteers, and there was a long list of the willing, but not a lot of donors. I guess those who have it want to keep it, and believe that no matter what, they can take it with them. The team though came up with an artificial it that they grew in a lab, and if I was willing to sign some papers, they would proceed with the, uhmm, procedure.

“I was, and did, but first I had a number of questions. Like, one, if I underwent the procedure would it look real, could people tell the difference, and most importantly, would girls know? They said, not as long as you kept it fully charged, and suggested that I carry fresh batteries. Also, they were working on a wifi model connected to a cloud storage system so no one could ever actually lose it again. Until then, they were going to attach a GPS tracking devise, just in case.

“Well, I underwent the procedure, and not only did they have it, and put it back in the exact place where I had lost it, but it was like they had super charged it, and I had more of it than ever. It felt great!

“In a practically ecstatic state, I ran out of that place, and really just had a need to share my joy with the world. You know how it is. I stood at the edge on top of the tallest building, and yelled out to the whole city proclaiming my excitement. The police came, there were fireman below spreading nets, and helicopters circling above. Newsmen and camera crews, and lots of spectators all around apparently all wanting to feed off my newfound love of, well, everything. Everybody except this one guy, this one who was trying to talk to me. I over heard him mumble to the other officials there, ‘This guy has really lost it.’

“I smiled brightly at the shiny badges all around me, and exclaimed, “No, just the opposite. I found it! I really found it! Want some?”

LD 2015

Because art is 1% inspiration, and the rest- Coffee and Donuts. It’s true!

Enjoy!

In cyberspace no one can hear you scream

Today is great, but the last two days, I haven’t slept well. It happens. For me, sleep deprivation can lead to some highly emotional states. I know it best on those types of days to not make a bigger decision than clean the bathroom, vacuum, or do laundry. I tend to miss a nights sleep once a week, so, though unorganized, my apartment is actually pretty spick and span, and though I’ve never actually used Spic and Span, I did look up the entomology. I’m just that perky today. Also, because of this, I never have to put on the same underwear twice.

Note: I have emergency underwear should the laundry not maintain schedule. Want to hear more about my underwear? Read my book, ‘Where to Catch the Best Sales the Day Before the Apocalypse.’

So, no sleep for me means try and be quiet. Especially hard when at work, where I lecture mostly, but still just try and maintain my coolness. Speaking of work, ever notice that when you are sick, people just don’t get it, and still expect normal responses from you? They know, and still ask, ‘What’s the matter?’ And you wonder why they can’t empathize that you are hallucinating with a 101 fever? No, just me? Well, lack of sleep seems to be treated the same way. My quiet is taken for rudeness. Kind of like spaces of the introvert who gathers energy, taking it all in until ready to expel. Yes, I’m all kinds of mental self-awareness walking the tight rope of accepted social protocol, and all in clean underwear.

Why? Because I know myself, and am prepared. Otherwise I might have one of those meltdowns you see on the Internet where someone feels the need to start yelling with their fingers. Typing furiously away with self-pity at a world that until recently was maintained by four walls. In the past, if you were unfortunate, they may have left a window open, and some incoherent sound carried down the block singing the off key broken echoes of, ‘Nobody loves me, nobody cares,’ or, ‘I’m mad as hell’, or ‘Who put their red sox in the laundry with my underwear?’

All kinds of noisy traffic out there in this city, and I tend to turn it off. Gravitate toward the positive. And those who don’t, those who just tend to hear the constant whine of the drunk on horrible, truly must go insane screaming at flowers on a beautiful spring day.