Memory, this strange invisible time travel organ transports me back to forbidden moments, times I shouldn’t even have access to. For good reason too since who wants to remember how your diaper feels and smells when it needs changing. Since I do remember my annoying itchy stinging clinging sticky diaper I figure when I remember where I came from before the diaper days it may have some merit.

A blank slated innocent new perfect baby might be the case sometimes, but not mine. I didn’t enter the world a blank slate. Well maybe a bit blank in some necessary spots but mostly I came stained with karma or whatever, you know stuff I wanted to do stuff I wanted to learn and stuff I wanted to fix plus I wanted some new tree rings and bragging rights. I remember. Not the place, I don’t remember a place. It’s the urgency that fades back in. The vast sence sometimes of how far back this goes, this desire to understand to care, how deeply I wanted this and for how long. Lots of stinky diapers are a small price to pay to play. Remembering one though sucks. I remember two.



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