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


Monday, July 08, 2002
I remember the American Basketball Association, with its tri-colored ball, and Rick Barry, the Nets superstar. I remember the first all-star game between the NBA and the ABA, and how much better then NBA was. Rick Barry was the ABA's greatest player. He shot fouls underhand, and always hit them. I think he never took a jump shot.

I remember Dick Young, of the Daily News' sport pages. There were always whimsical drawings in his columns. He was very crusty. I remember reading sports in the Daily News, because its coverage was so good, even though the rest of the paper was so conservative.

I remember when the New York Post was an afternoon paper. At the time it was highly liberal. I think they endorsed Bella Abzug. (I remember Bella Abzug.)

I remember people blaming Lindsay for the snow in Queens, and I couldn't really understand why that was hisfault.

I remember wondering what the star key and the pound key (we called it number-sign then) on the new touchtone phones could possibly be for.

I remember the introduction of the Princess Phone, and how odd that seemed. At the time you rented phones from the phone company, and they were virtually indestructible. I remember that my uptown grandmother had a phone you could plug into outlets in several rooms in her apartment. The plug was a large, unwieldy, four-pronged affair. (Until recently, at any rate, you could still find these plugs in the phone sections of hardware stores.) It was large and boxy and ugly and seemed in keeping with her large, boxy, ugly hearing aid, and most of her stuff: inelegant but she knew how to use it. It was like her camera too, and her sweaters, and everything about her. Ugly but comfortable, and unthreatening. Although I do have a false memory of her once bare-breasted, with one large breast hanging down in the middle of her chest. (A cyclopean memory, not the memory of a mastectomy.) Similarly I have a false memory of my mother and father both having penises -- from the first time I remember seeing my mother naked: they were naked together.


posted by william 7:46 AM
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