Greetings from America, faithful readers and listeners. Sorry for the absence the last couple of weeks. I have a lot of excuses like the fact that I moved house and then went on holiday. But the real truth is that somewhere along the way, I lost my brain.

Now how can you lose a brain, I hear you ask?

Well, when moving or going on holiday, you have to pack and unpack countless boxes and bags and suitcases over and over again, and inevitably things get misplaced.

But isn’t your brain inside your head?

Well, most of the time I think it is, but it’s really hard to say since I’ve never actually seen it. But recently, I swear it seems to be missing, so I am hoping I find it in the next box I unpack.

But how can you think without your brain?

Who said I was thinking? I’d say the last few weeks have been more or less run on some sort of primal-auto-involuntary-pilot-system. My body has been going through all these motions from morning till night, hours and hours, day and days, and weeks and weeks on end, just moving things from point A to point B, that somewhere along the line the point of having a brain must have become pointless and I think I accidentally packed it in a box marked ‘fragile’.

Did you wrap it in bubble wrap? Or newspaper? Or pack it in Styrofoam popcorn?

No idea. I really don’t have a clue since I lost my brain.

That sounds kind of nice actually.

Nice? To lose my brain is nice? What kind of idiot are you?

You tell me.


I mean, you’re done moving now, right?

As far as I know.

And you’re on holiday now, yes?


And you’re in America, right?


So why in the world do you need your brain? Just relax and enjoy the scenery. No need to worry about email, phone calls, meetings, and endless to-do lists. Take a break!

True, but, well, I have to write this T.I.L.T. somehow.

Oh, please, you know your worst writing is when you over think things. The best is instinctual. Butt in seat and let the words just tumble out of that magical place of muse. Poets do not write with their brains.

You call this poetry?

The last T.I.L.T. you wrote was your anniversary poem.


People seemed to like that, so really, forget your brain, it’s overrated.

I suppose. I am really tired of thinking so much all the time.

You see, you do need a holiday.

I suppose. But at some point I really do need to find my brain. I may not need it for poetry, but it’s certainly useful for other things.

Like what?


Oh please, that’s what they make calculators for.

Maybe, but I do need to keep track of things somehow.

Isn’t that what your smart phone is for?

I suppose. But I keep losing my smart phone.

Maybe it’s with your brain.

See? It’s a vicious circle. I need my brain to keep track of my phone and my phone to keep track of my brain. This is exhausting.

You’re telling me. My brain is just starting to hurt thinking about it.

What? How can your brain hurt if your lost it?

It has a mind of it’s own.

I am really confused now.

So am I.

I really do need a vacation.

Yes, so why don’t you stop worrying about where your brain might be and just be happy to be on holiday already.

Right. Good idea.


Yes, there must be lots of things I can do which don’t require my brain.

Yes, like napping, or hiking, or talking to my wife.

Whoa! Watch out you don’t get in trouble there!


That last comment you made about talking to your wife.

What are you talking about?

Oh. Uh, I’m not sure, I, um, can’t seem to remember?

Hmmm, you know, losing my brain might not be so bad after all.

You think?

No, I don’t think at all. And, well, it’s kind of nice for a change.

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