I had a seizure one night, when I was a teenager, on the front step of Store 24 on Thayer Street in Providence. I was talking to my friend Mark and drinking a Coke, watching cars drive by, and then I was looking up at Mark’s face in the glaring fluorescent light and Thayer Street was sideways. “What happened?” he asked me. I didn’t say anything, ’cause I didn’t know exactly and ’cause I was busy feeling the sticky fluid on my face and in my hair. I hoped that I’d cracked my head on the cement step and that the sticky fluid was nice, dramatic blood, but my Coke can was empty and Mark wasn’t looking at me as if I was covered in blood, so I figured I’d not only embarrassed myself by having a seizure in public but also poured an entire can of soda on my own face. Swell.
“Lazy Eye” thinks this is a pertinent moment. It then goes on to describe ways in which our brains spend time in other places and the embarrassing frustrations that can cause us. Another eye in another place, out of this world, can set off our balance and poke little holes in the beautiful masks we wear in public. We make these masks out of psychological glitter and glue, ’cause we think we can fool people, or maybe we got our feelings hurt one too many times, and a thoughtfully constructed persona starts to seem important. They’ll think I’m so cool! But friends, lovers and well-wishers whose hearts are not made of stone always seem to be around when our weirdnesses shine through the eye holes like so much bright light.