I remember / je me souviens
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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, November 13, 2006
I remember flying seagull kites on the Mall in Washington D.C. We were down visiting the Herdrichs, as we did over February vacation for many years, and for some reason we met up with Aunt Roz, my grandmother's younger sister. I imagine she was in D.C. because Uncle Arthur must have been at the Department of Energy for one reason or another, but maybe she was in town visiting her other sister, Aunt Ernie, who lived nearby in Virginia. It was a sunny day and not cold, and someone, probably Aunt Roz, bought us the kites from the man selling them there, one for each of us (no sharing!), and we stayed and flew kites in the middle of the city for a long time. We squinted painfully to watch the white paper birds flap in the too-bright sky and felt powerful holding the string, holding the wind, tied to a bird. The memory is of extended, empty, powerfully fun time, time like the big empty Mall. We stayed and flew kites until we began to feel cold in the late day. I also remember Yoss chasing pigeons all over D.C. that visit, stalking them by adopting their walk, bobbing his head back and forward, disconcerting them with his imitation or his little boy interest. Each one he followed tolerated him until he got about 3 feet away and then flew off.


posted by Rosasharn 11:50 AM
. . .
0 comments
Comments:

Post a Comment





. . .