The Lost Sombrero — Michael Sean Erickson

For a while, it is just a sloppy sombrero like all the others in Burrito Land, as if shaped on a conveyor belt somewhere and handed out at a soup kitchen. It is a souvenir of thoughtless charity, the kind that offers no regard to the particular birthright of a man. But then, once upon a time, it is transfigured, perhaps by a playful shadow in the mind, or perhaps in reality. It does not really matter how this comes to be. The new truth is that it is the Proto-Sombrero, the Alpha and the Omega, tilted atop a cactus plant as an icon of lazy, sublime defiance. And there is nothing higher, not even the sun. The little people adore it. They hold their tongues, as if worshippers in a lecture hall, until one day their eyes glare just a bit too much. And somewhere in the raised fists and sharpened wits, it is lost, like a half-baked seedling tossed into a wild river. It is the Lost Sombrero. Will it be found amidst the rubble of discontent? And, if so, then will it be ever again hoisted atop the cactus plant? These are the rather scintillating questions addressed in this book; and there is no doubt that the reader, upon recapturing his or her startled breath, cannot but dive into the pages to seek the answers. As a side note, in these pages there is a consideration of several related topics: the Gnostic myth; the nature of man; the problem of sin; even whether time is linear, or circular, or maybe just an infinitesimally small point floating about in space somewhere. Mind-blowing, to be sure; but there is no need for concern, as such will be but brief detours from the Grand Odyssey of the Lost Sombrero.