A friend texted me “Chubbalobster” the other day. Monday of this week, in fact.
I can’t get into the specifics of the Chubbalobster right now. But I will tell you it was a, sort of, brain hiccup we had during our undergraduate years. We were anthropology students strung out on ethnographic method! It was bound to happen – this perfect collision (or is that collusion?) of manic giddiness and prostrate misery that resulted in a thing called (for whatever reason) the “Chubbalobster”…and then just as easily, it seems, utterly forgotten.
But the other day, it popped into his head.
“So what WAS a Chubbalobster?”
Damned if I knew.
He told me that I drew it once. Did I? And then I realized that he was right: I did. I did draw it, once. Once upon a time I drew a – I drew the Chubbalobster. I’d just totally forgotten about it. Or rather, I failed to remember.
So I drew it again, the Chubbalobster, to see if I could. But now I realize that this rendering of the Chubbalobster may or may not come close to approximating the original.
Doesn’t it? Or does it? I just have no real idea. Neither does my friend. But it is a Chubbalobster if not the Chubbalobster and that will have to be enough for everybody.
Chubbalobster. It’s been years and years. Years since I’ve remembered, years since that particular neural pathway has been fired up, years in which you, Chubbalobster, and for all intents and purposes, did not exist.
And yet, and then: “I think you drew it once didn’t you?”
A working definition of Chubbalobster, now that I’ve got some bearing on it:
[Chubbalobster: Among the things from your past pulled from other people’s memories.]
I am not sure if I am comforted by that.
Confounded, surely. Yes, without a doubt.