The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Selective Memory

Selective memory is something I find fascinating. For the most part, it bothers me that my brain will only remember certain details and block everything else out. Last month, I was in an accident at a catering gig. My left had got trapped in the mechanism of a loading dock elevator and my left middle finger was badly crushed. No broken bones, but I did leave with a significant amount of stitches. I oddly don't remember saying to stop the elevator. I remember cursing like a sailor, and then being in a cab for the hospital.

My coworkers inform me that I screamed until they stopped and reversed the elevator, then said in a calm voice that I was cut (as if the blood flowing down my arm wouldn't indicate it). I gathered my belongings including my bar kit, and offered to walk to the hospital, before the company put me in a cab.

I wish I remember that, but selective memory does have it's advantages. For Example:

Apparently, while staying in Provincetown, I was informed that during a morning while my roommate, Crash, slept only a few feet away, I was getting a little "hands-on" with my bed mate. It wasn't until my bed mate happened to notice that Crash was awake and trying desperately to ignore any activity that was going on that he stopped me from any more physical activity.

Somehow...I don't recall that.

Thankfuly

Patrick - 2:26 PM -

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