Memory Packet
Watching an old movie, I became aware of little things that triggered memories that I had forgotten. Suddenly, I began remembering public parks, and sounds, and scenes from places all over. The unique color of grass in sunny memories and playing in the rain with its distinct blue and gray colors; being naked as a child was acute. Smells don't come so easily, and like many memories are dull and wrinkled around the edges and they come in splashes or short spurts that make you wonder one second later if they really came at all.
And this made me think of a big collage made from all these memories, put on a great big wall, maybe all the walls, and the ceiling and floor until the pictures and recordings and implied smells overlapped just so. You would eventually only see fragments of the memories below the surface as they were layered and layered, deeper and deeper. There would show foreheads, maybe, and hands and smiles and swatches of clothing. Each little piece would be in my head as a whole, but shown on the walls as just these fragments.
The realization that there is no way to capture all of this is very painful. There is no way to save all of it. I can internalize a lot and communicate some, and if I'm lucky, even teach and impart some abstract meaning to someone else, keeping the spirit of some essence of some portion alive in its new obscurity. But no amount of collecting of napkin writings, or books received as gifts, or all the endless digital pictures will keep it all. There will be loss and the history will be warped in conversation and recollection. And I'm not sure it is fair.
We need a memory packet that we can store on some seemingly endless media device that can be archived and backed up and renewed AND transmitted to others..to you. Underlined and annotated by me. Nothing short of that will ever be fair.
bb
And this made me think of a big collage made from all these memories, put on a great big wall, maybe all the walls, and the ceiling and floor until the pictures and recordings and implied smells overlapped just so. You would eventually only see fragments of the memories below the surface as they were layered and layered, deeper and deeper. There would show foreheads, maybe, and hands and smiles and swatches of clothing. Each little piece would be in my head as a whole, but shown on the walls as just these fragments.
The realization that there is no way to capture all of this is very painful. There is no way to save all of it. I can internalize a lot and communicate some, and if I'm lucky, even teach and impart some abstract meaning to someone else, keeping the spirit of some essence of some portion alive in its new obscurity. But no amount of collecting of napkin writings, or books received as gifts, or all the endless digital pictures will keep it all. There will be loss and the history will be warped in conversation and recollection. And I'm not sure it is fair.
We need a memory packet that we can store on some seemingly endless media device that can be archived and backed up and renewed AND transmitted to others..to you. Underlined and annotated by me. Nothing short of that will ever be fair.
bb