I remember / je me souviens
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For those limbic bursts of nostalgia, invented by Proust, miniaturized by Nicholson Baker, and freeze-dried by Joe Brainard in his I remember and by Georges Perec in his Je me souviens.

But there are no fractions, the world is an integer
Like us, and like us it can neither stand wholly apart nor disappear.
When one is young it seems like a very strange and safe place,
But now that I have changed it feels merely odd, cold
And full of interest.
          --John Ashbery, "A Wave"

Sometimes I sense that to put real confidence in my memory I have to get to the end of all rememberings. That seems to say that I forego remembering. And now that strikes me as an accurate description of what it is to have confidence in one's memory.
          --Stanley Cavell, The Claim of Reason


Wednesday, June 19, 2002
I remember a very few really high fevers -- so bad that the bed felt somehow like a rack or bed of nails. The soft sheets and the whole surface somehow felt like a knife edge extended to the size of a mattress but still pressing into me like a blade. The whole world, no matter how smooth -- smoothness itself -- felt jagged.

I remember, though, that I felt this way only very rarely. Once I came home with a fever of 105F (=40.6C) -- I fell on 89th street and decided to rest for a little while before turning down into the back courtyard (past the tailor's shop and the bird-bath and too the back door near the milk-machine where you had to ring to get the doorman to let you in once security increased in the building a little bit), but two men picked me up and carried me in to the building; my mother's mother was there, and my father's mother joined her. I thought I felt fine, and when my fever spiked again later, as Dr. Feilendorf (of the soap bubbles) said it would, I protested violently against their calling her again. But she said they did right. Still I felt fine, and rarely remember feeling sick when I was kept home from school because of a fever.

I remember also, and conversely, that I never thought that aspirin or cough medicine made me feel better. My father used to give me hot milk with honey when I had a cough, which he would cool by pouring it from one glass to another back and forth. I also was skeptical that this could cool anything, even though I sort of intuited the principle. I was a great believed in empirical results over theory, and to me it didn't seem as though the liquid was cooling off. Now I swear by ibuprofen.


posted by william 2:27 PM
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