The Process

Autobiography of a Skinless Mind: 7.1: Tin Ribcage

Study of the conflict between skinless mind and continuously morphing mass of cells that is the body

Study of the conflict between skinless mind and continuously morphing mass of cells that is the body

Autobiography of a Skinless Mind: 1: Girl

When I was six, I started crying
in the backseat of our minivan on
the way home from Sports Authority. I

said “Dad, are you kidnapping me?” He
said “no,” as parents say to their
children’s invalid questions |that
is not a fact|.  Perhaps

that was my first encounter with
context-lifting.  |The mind exits the
situation and looks at it like a story
prompt in grade school: what do you
see here?|  The easy

path was to re-enter the daughter
self and feel the leather of my new
glove and see the hard new metal
bat and think of the softball that would
be played.  Solution for a plush bodied
human.  Days

come when your chipped off pieces are
patched up with tin.  Such armor
prepares us for extended lifting, enables full
sight.  I went into the

home of a strange man, and I
said, “are you my father?”  He, being
of tin as well, did not answer, knowing
the question was not altogether invalid |this
could be so|.  Only his eyes were foreign,
but then I hadn’t seen a mirror in
days or
weeks.  With the tin, as it goes,
blood forgets itself, occasionally.