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


Saturday, August 23, 2008
I remember, but not with perfect confidence, "Can't get enough of Post Sugar Crisps, Sugar Crisps, Sugar Crisps, / Can't get enough of those Sugar Crisps...", and then what? It was a kind of nightclub jazz version of "Joshua fit the battle of Jericho." Was it "Post Sugar Crisps" or "those Sugar Crisps"? And what corresponded to "The walls came tumblin' down"? The cartoon character singing it was walking through some cartoon landscape, and murmuring it under his breath, carried along in his own superior world -- the world of his directedness towards his next helping of the transcendent privilege of Sugar Crisps -- past all the civilians who looked at him with curiosity and incomprehension, but whom he sublimely ignored.


posted by william 10:39 AM
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Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I remember how being able to swim seemed to me superhuman adult knowledge. They could swim! I would drown, and it was very dangerous. We had to wear life preservers and stay in the shallow end or in the kids' area of the lake. And then there were some kids who could swim too, which put them out of the reach of equality. The best I could do was play at it, in the moments of pleasure they let me have after I'd been scrubbed in the bathtub, where I would be allowed to "swim" for a few minutes by turning onto my belly in the warm shallow water and making swimming motions. Later, when they were willing to leave me alone in the bath I'd swim as the water drained out, before getting out of the tub.

My parents tried to teach me to scissors my hands and feet on the shores of Lake Carmel, so that I'd learn the breast stroke. It seemed strange and unhelpful to be doing it standing up though. Later, in some activity, maybe Bill-Dave, we learned the dead man's float and then dog-paddling. (I remember that this was in an indoor pool, anyhow, and that a counselor taught it.) Swimming was the first godlike thing I learned. It changed my relation to a part of space, the portion that extended over the reaches of the lake. To my little self, learning to swim was as thrilling as you would now think learning to fly would be.


posted by william 6:02 PM
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