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, November 17, 2005
I remember the noon siren, which I
posted about a little three years ago. You could hear it everywhere, and to me it seemed to be coming from the East, always Parkwards from wherever I was on ninetieth street. (I remember always hearing it on 90th and West End.) It was somehow the sound of the unity of the city. I had (and have) no idea where the sound was coming from: there were no klaxons anywhere that I could see, nor did I think to look for them. It was just part of what filled the air in New York at noon, everywhere, indiscriminately, part of the sense of general, calm, all-embracing security and method and purpose and benign convenience. I miss the noon sirens.


posted by william 11:41 PM
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