Don’t be fooled by the brevity of my texts. I talk a lot. And it happened that in the middle of an argument, my mind went completely blank, I couldn’t find the next word, knowing that it’s on my hard drive, knowing what it is, but it was like a short-circuit between my brain and my voice, I couldn’t come up with it. Similar words came to me, and I borrowed a synonym. The exact word remains inaccessible and familiar at the same time. It doesn’t even have to be a difficult or rare word. On those moments I think about Alzheimer’s — no old person in my family has suffered from it or its first cousin, senile dementia — but there is always a first time.
I have a horror of this could that will leave me without memories, without words, without emotions; I have a horror of myself, beatific and dazed, rocking in a chair.
I write as an exorcism. As a magic spell against the danger. Or perhaps I am in the chair imagining I am writing some words to scare away Alzheimer’s?
May 4 2012