ENTERING MY BRAIN THROUGH ONE OF ITS MANY HOLES

One is first struck with how quiet it is inside

Not the busy rush of traffic, stirred up neurons racing in circles in a vortex of ideas

And not a chattering of voices, opinions, and objections to and about every issue currently before the Grand Cranial Council

There aren't millions of images running by clipped to a fact moving conveyor, each picture instantly accessible via the merest trigger of word, taste of smell

There aren't even 300 hamsters breathlessly generating the necessary energy in their spinning wheels

No, enter through a hole into my brain and you will be surprised, confronted as you are with a nearly empty room and a single square wooden table on which sits an aging clock radio, about the size and shape of a phonebook, from whose tinny speaker issues a thin, slightly staticky pop hit from 1973

JD Frey--October 25, 2003