Word: appaloosa
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...knew a student from the University at Laramie who was working as wrangler at the ranch where I was staying in Wilson (a town where "Church" means going to the Stagecoach Bar on Sunday evening). The first time I met him, he was picking the hoof of an Appaloosa named Darcy I was about to ride. The name seemed incongruous to me. Eric looked up slowly from under the hat and drawled, "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune," etc. A racist outfit called Aryan Nation once tried...
Prompted with "Denver," Boswell unfailingly responds, "Colorado." Asked to name a city in Colorado, however, he goes blank. Similarly, Boswell recognizes the category "horse" but cannot supply the example "Appaloosa." He knows "U.S. President" but not Harry Truman or Richard Nixon. Somewhere in his brain, the data may still exist, but he can no longer get at them. The reason, argue the Damasios, is that he has lost essential "convergence zones," mental switching stations that provide access to the information and relate it to other relevant data...
...foggy lowlands, wearing their bright costumes, they made a visual feast. Now and again you would catch sight of a peach-clad boy on an Appaloosa cutting through the Chinese tallow trees, or a scarlet lad standing on his saddle, dancing on a bay. Five young women gotten up as golden harlots were included in the tableau as an easy taunting symbol for the youths: do not touch, even if you are not yourself...
...regained feeling, reached up to touch a nose that had been smashed against his cheekbone. Memory flashed: the carnage that had stared back at him from the mirror the night before, the purple polka-dot bruises that dappled his face and shoulders and back. Like the flanks of an Appaloosa horse, he thought to himself; then, because he had lost his gallop and barbed wire fenced-in his prairie, he thought again--a spotted fawn, tucktail and fear-frozen at the sound of a pine cone dropping. Except it was more like a pine tree that had fallen...
...feeling, reached up to touch a nose that had been smashed against his cheek-bone. Memory flashed: the carnage that had stared back at him from the mirror the night before, the purple polka-dot bruises that dappled his face and shoulders and back. Like the flanks of an Appaloosa horse, he thought to himself; then, because he had lost his gallop and barbed wire fenced-in his prairie, he thought again--a spotted fawn, tucktail and fear-frozen at the sound of a pine cone dropping. Except it was more like a pine tree that had fallen...