I just had an entire mental conversation, albeit brief, in my head with an ex. A long-gone ex. I’ve moved on, gotten married, had kids.
And then, suddenly, I called him a dipshit in my mind. I’m reminded of They Might Be Giants typically quirky song “Make a Little Birdhouse in Your Soul.” Get it, because I conjured a little dipshit in my mind?!
He wasn’t a dipshit, by the way. Just a moment of spectral disagreement.
But what is this psychological function when long-dead memories and associations spring, unbidden, to mind? Is it just the residue of everyone you’ve ever loved?
I guess this getting over anything, or letting go of anyone, and then reconciling what it all meant is not as fast and clean a process as I expected.
I think it’s because we got rid of rotary phones. To really end psychic ties once and for all, you need to finish your last conversation by slamming down the phone hard. It serves as a sort of exorcism.
We have, by the way, not come up with activities equaling the asmr of rotary-dialing a familiar phone number, nor the physical and emotional catharsis of vicious hang-up slams.
That’s it. End of the story. No drama, just a moment’s ghostly conversation with somebody that I used to know. Whether it’s creating art or flashing back to the past, we’re all making a little birdhouse in our minds.
—Sarah Torribio
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