I can’t remember anything important any more, I’m too distracted. Sometimes I blame the Internet. Sometimes I blame my parents. Sometimes I blame myself.
It would be better if I could even just say “I don’t remember anything” but it’s more like I don’t remember what is important. Or that’s not even right. What I think is important changes halfway through my thoughts. I begin the thought thinking that the most important thing is to know who will win the next United States congressional election and I end the thought thinking — DREAMLAND.
You know that I used to put on shows in my mind at the end of the day where members of a cultural bureaucracy in some Ruritanian land would put on spectacles with young children and willowy women that encapsulated in folklore and song and pageant the events of my day that I wished to preserve in memory, in some sort of interior, idiosyncratic Athenaeum Folklorico. That was a painful but meaningful conversation with my father as he sat watching the Rockford Files and typing his legal forms…the Minster of Folkloric Arts will commemorate it with a traditional ballet from the Wale region, performed by the girls with their famously unstable headdresses and hand cymbals and stamping waddling dance.
But you probably didn’t know that I followed the Minster home to his dacha and said “Look tell me the list of the actual abilities that I can obtain if I study with you! Tell me tell me tell me.” And he told me:
a)magic eye — seeing what is only implied
b)magic face — conveying with the muscles of the face the intimations that the person you are addressing most wishes to have intimated to him or her at a higher level of intimacy than that of a normal face
c)subtle body — a body that bears the same relationship to the gross body of meat and flesh and fat and heart and lung as the memory of an event that has not happened bears to the memory of an event that is long gone.
Dip your feet in it! It’s a lazy river, and however you like it or don’t, it does what such things do.