Or every man be blind —
-Emily Dickinson, 1263
I was giving the ASH VS EVIL DEAD series a shot late last night, and there’s a scene where this gal asks Ash if he knows any poems because it “drives her wild” (what?) so, campy-boy Ashypoo says a thing-
-which I don’t remember remember because my brain went into remember mode. I started priming something like “I guess my answer would be ‘I don’t know if it’ll drive you wild but this’s my favorite…’ ”
…..But I couldn’t remember. It was so, goddang, annoying.
I had this framework for the structure of what I remembered as my favorite poem: I knew its rhythm, roughly how it looked blurred on a page, and I knew that if I reread it, it’d register as incredibly familiar. That all told me that somewhere, its connections connected somewhere in my brain.
Other me *during deadite decapitation* “But you memorized it in like, one read before — what was it though?”
A bit more “ahhh……forget it.”
Other me: *repeats*
For two hours. Until I was like “TELL THE TRUTH BUT TELL IT….” …nice?
An hour more: “OHYEAHTELLALLTHETRUTHBUTTELLITSLANTSUCCESSINCIRCU-”
And there it was.