SOS from the Department of Lost and Found
I hear St. Anthony's good at these sorts of things so maybe he can help. I've lost something. It is not the sort of loss associated with things like souls or innocence or time. No, no, this is something that can be recovered because it belongs in the non-theoretical camp of tangibility.
What I lost is my life on paper. My life on paper. It is gone; lost some afternoons ago. Lost. It's my 2005 date book. Letter page halves bound in unassuming black leather; the year 2005 is debossed on the front cover announcing its Gregorian domain with innocuous tact that pissing dogs can't begin to imagine. Its pages are trimmed in gold but I didn't mind because this date book was one of life's few artifacts that did not equate gold with Romanesque excess. And now it is lost.
My date book. Time and time again, I made the conscious decision to leave the identification page blank for fear that a lost date book would coincide with lost personal information - information that, in the wrong hands, would somehow have the capacity to do irreparable harm. Or so I presumed. I now find myself rethinking the prudence of that decision.
My date book is lost. If you find it please return it. You'll find my address on the postcard tucked between the back cover and the last gold-trimmed page. Please don't read my four page long to do list. It's the one tucked between the book's front cover and its first gold-trimmed page. Please don't read my new years resolutions. Or my article ideas. Or the various pieces of reflection written all over those gold-trimmed pages. St. Anthony and I thank you.
And now I ask you this: if Catholicism has a saint helps to recover things lost, does it also have a saint who is to help recover things forgotten? A simple google search would answer this, I know. But I'm in the mood for inefficiency.
posted by kafkas.undies at 2:06 PM
1 Comments:
It’s these Gregorian chant snafus and pie tasting contests
That are ruining the Midwest’s sense of decadence
Or chandeliers that u can check your dentures in
Because gold teeth contain a microscopic amount of pixy dust
Flaunted by Tinkerbell’s ashy elbows in a single flailing wisp
And her coveralls have just made the list
Of the top ten reasons to go to sleep when its light out
Or maybe you can just help out a little around the house
Like feed the dust bunnies and their stagnate watershed
Cuz Asian babies are too potent to merely placate in a glass container
On display for your less attractive Anglo cousins
Basically, contemporary Cro-Magnon infatuations
That are seersuckered and naysayed
By any governing triumvirate
With carpeted bathrooms
So u can tell which species of mold is sponsored for the marathon
To cure diseases that will eventually arrive from mars’ surface unhinged
In their ability to overwhelm ionic typhoons
But what’s the only tattoo you can get and still be buried in a Jewish tomb?
(Random sequences of numbers and letters)
Anne Frank, won’t you begin our tumultuous voyage
With a beautiful sonnet, engraved in your arm?
I mean, if you have kids,
And you don’t want them,
There’s a myriad of possibilities that can arise
From such unfortunate circumstances
Whether its adoption, abortion, black market,
Or the inevitable, urban legend: senior prom dumpster
Which is coincidentally, a new Ben & Jerry's flavor
But they felt the consistency was lacking and tasted more like cake batter
Like how the Cold Stone Creamery totally turned the ice cream market on its hind quarters
I mean, u swirl the toppings in…
As if the ice cream is inverted
And inside out
But you make it work some how
Unlike the monstrosity of Dippin' Dots
Which insurance salesman came up with that one?
I really like that talisman that hangs off your neck
From the dental floss u received in the mail as a free sample
12:42 PM, May 15, 2005
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