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


Thursday, June 10, 2004
I remember looking out the window of my room with binoculars -- I don't know where I got them but I associate having them with Hugh Cramer's being over, and maybe Brian Seeman. What I remember in particular was the puzzle -- my first conscious experience with minimax problems -- of how much to focus them. You got them to focus more and more sharply, and it felt as though you should just keep twisting the knob in that direction, and yet after a while you lost resolution and clarity. Why should this be? And why should there be a limit on clarity? And how could you know when you reached it? The Polaroid cameras we had, and later the Honeywell Pentax SLR that I owned usefully told you that you were in focus when frames lined up properly, without, I guess, any refraction. It was a neat trick, though I'm not sure quite how it was done. But those binoculars! They just sort of challenged your idea of vision, of the visual space you were in, and of what clarity and lucidity might be. Designed to help you see more, they just challenged one's serenity about seeing at all.


posted by william 4:29 PM
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