Impaired Senior Singles Guide

from Brain Damaged News

My body was 56 when my new brain arrived. But there’s good news, too. I don’t have cancer or heart disease, plus I can sometimes sound coherent and still sport boots and jeans. My body? It’s great. Great I still have one.

There are a few small issues, though. Like a bit of brain damage. It comes with a side of aphasia plus a side of I forget what. Oh, right, a side of amnesia. Amnesia makes nothing out of countless somethings I know, don’t know, then know again.

I began working in media when I was in my 20s and magazine covers were painted in bison blood on caves. At that time, I could defy logic, convention, decorum — plus make headlines, meet deadlines, keep hands on the keyboard, and feet out of mouth.

This was before Chat GPT and before “Send” buttons, Macs, PCs, laptops, tweets, cellphones, email or internet. When we made a mistake, we did not hit the “delete” button. It had not yet been devised.

Photo by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash

Then I was hit by a drunk with a truck and got a new life with a mind of its own. I also acquired a perceptual distortion known as “flat time,” which means the last five seconds may appear to me as ancient, modern and gone. Sometimes all at once.

Speaking of gone, fifty years ago, at the outset of the Summer of Love, every student brave enough to be on campus was getting maced. Every word was groovy. Every phrase was out of sight. Every other person was a narc and you didn’t know which one. I didn’t grok or drop and most of the time I was straight, not stoned.  

As you have noticed, I’m an antique.  When I began working in media in 1971, nothing made waves on anyone’s feeds. We had phone booths, subway tokens, and most of the Great Salt Lake.  Also back then, we didn’t have AI and did the writing ourselves.  Speaking of writing, if you’re an honest, attractive, interesting Alan Alda type, I would like to hear from you.