Someone told me the other day that
I lost my mind. It’s the kind of thing you hear pretty frequently, sometimes in
the form of a question, sometimes as a statement. If it’s a joke and you still
do have your mind, then you know what’s going on. The paradox of mind loss is
that if you really have lost your mind, you won’t know that someone’s telling
you the truth when they tell you that you’ve lost it. When I was told a few
days ago, I, forgivably, thought it was a joke. It took a lot of convincing to
make me believe such an outlandish statement.
Naturally,
the first place I checked was inside my head. Maybe it really was there, but
was just doing other things. After all, I had no recollection of it leaving, so
maybe it hadn’t after all. But no, it wasn’t there. I think I checked back
sporadically, always to no avail.
Last
week I
The
next places I checked were the closets in and around my room, and then some on
some of the other floors in the house. I recently reorganized things and
figured it could have jumped into some storage space in the process.
Unfortunately, none of the places I checked contained what appeared to be my
the paradox of losing your mind loss is a paradox.
After
checking all of those closets, I realized I had too many fucking closets in
this fucking house, but they were still all full. How can that happen? So I
decided to turn one of the closets into a walk-in tanning booth. I bought a
bunch of ultraviolet lights and rigged them up to a gas-powered generator. I
think I bought the generator at the Home Depot, but I may have stolen it. I
vaguely remember checking to see if it would fit under my coat. I knew there
was a reason to hold on to that old North Face jacket even though it was too
big for my current fashion sense. The only problem with the setup was the
fumes, but I love the smell of gasoline.
Someone
told me I
The next place I
checked for my mind was in the septic tank at my sister’s house upstate. I
haven’t been to her house up there since last summer, but it may have
hitchhiked up 17 into Roscoe, and then it’s not too far a walk from there to
the mountain the house is on. The tallest mountain in the world is Mount
Everest, but only because the other tall mountains are underwater and don’t
have a chance to rise up like my black brethren.
The
next places I checked for my mind were the closets in and around my room in my
cell phone with the touch screen that I hate typing on because I have big
fingers. The eloquent man uses not the touch screen phone. Typewriters are a
motherfucker, but they don’t have T9 just like my phone. What if you make a
mistake on the last line of a page while using a typewriter? I’ll bet what you
do in that situation says a lot about your personality.
Naturally,
the first place I lost my mind was the day before yesterday last week on the
Gregorian calendar system of a down jacket paradox of mind loss and profit. An
earthly person through whom God makes his messages heard. Blessed is the fruit
of thy whom.
So
the next place I checked for this “mind” that I apparently lost was the fucking
trash. What good is a fucking mind if you can’t control it? So I figured I
might have thrown it in the garbage with all the other shit I don’t need. But
it wasn’t there. Good, I hope the garbage men picked it up already, that
useless waste of space. Fucking… fucking… fucking
Then
I decided that the best way to catch bees is with honey, so I left out a plate
of hot, sexy brain juice that I collected from a brain fart in hopes that my mind
would make itself apparent. I sat for three years in a chair in front of that
plate waiting for my mind to show up, but I think it came in the first fifteen
minutes to mess with me. Alas, the life of a hopeless romantic is often too
much to bear. O mind, wherefore art thou lost?
The paradox of
mind loss is that it makes you feel like you’ll never know when it’s Opposite
Day since how can anyone tell you it’s Opposite Day? If it’s not and they say
it is, then they’re lying sacks of shit, but if it is and they say it is, then
it isn’t since they would have to say the opposite, which would necessitate
their saying it’s not Opposite Day,
in which case you heartily agree and if they agree then it’s just not Opposite
Day, and if they try to argue with you, you kick them in the balls and run
away.
Last week someone
told me I lost my mind I ramble the paradox of mind loss I’ll never find my
mind since you need a mind to search for a mind I give up on mind searching
paradox of mind loss last week lost my mind someone me told paradox.
