Does a mind make a sound when it breaks? That’s not a rhetorical question. I wonder if there is an auditory signal that accompanies a major stroke or brain injury, some neurological spark that sounds a warning of imminent disaster. I suppose only the victim knows.

Malcolm Young has dementia. That sucks. I love AC/DC; I love their pounding, balls to the wall brand of rock; I love Angus, Brian, and the late, great Bon Scott; I love the fact that their music never changes. Most of all, I love Malcolm Young. Not many guys can make playing rhythm guitar cool. I understand that Malcolm’s short term memory is gone. I don’t know if that means he’s forgotten how to play guitar or if he just no longer recognizes his band mates. Either way, it’s sad.

As a writer I can think of few things worse than losing my ability to create; to remember what I have written; to recall that I am, or once was, a writer. As a man I can think of nothing worse than losing the ability to recognize my family.

My mind is clear and I’m working on a new novel. I’m grateful for that. I’m also grateful that I’m not Malcolm Young.

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