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


Sunday, August 10, 2003
I remember one Sunday morning in Bellagio running into Michelle Malliet's mother walking their chiuaua on the dock. I asked her where Michelle was. Her mother (who spoke perfect English) told me she was at "mass." I was slightly shocked by this, made jealous by it, as though there was this activity to which Michelle actually devoted herself, rather than sustaining the aristocratic indifference which made my treatment by her no worse than anyone else's, and in certain ways worked to my advantage since I was capable of infinite patience, and I knew that no one else would be. (I don't think there was any competition around either, although that wasn't the issue and wouldn't have mattered. The one very handsome older boy I saw her with turned out to be her brother. I remember his inflatable dinghy which later I went water-skiing behind. It was neat that you could inflate a boat that could then go that fast, slapping the waves. I remember one summer a very handsome Englishman showed up and monoskied, which I had never done, and which my mother, the water-skiier, couldn't do. I learned how, eventually, but it was very hard to get up behind the dinghy, and I remember the cold lake water in my nose as I was dragged face first through the water when I fell.) I somehow expected that Michelle would expect of anyone she might take seriously such infinite patience. And she was older than me! Her birthday was April 27th, mine not till November. So in the summers she was always a numeral ahead of me. And yet all this made my pertinacity all the more significant -- to me at least. But there she was, at mass. And I somehow knew what the word meant, without my ever having heard it before. She was at mass, she was Catholic, there was a secret portion of her life that I had no access to, that my patience and devotion in no wise engaged with. I somehow realized that "mass" explained the rest of the word "Christmas," and so I was brought to think of the central Catholic holidays, as I knew them to be, of Christmas and Easter -- holidays that took place when we were in New York and Michelle and her family in Luxembourg. So this meant that the part of her life to which she was most devoted was somehow centered on Luxembourg and not on Bellagio, whereas the part of my life that I was most devoted to was centered on Bellagio, and on her.


posted by william 11:42 PM
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