memories kyla "Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le coeur oublie." 020130 ... le corbin would that such was true 020130 ... silentbob loves you the plaster dented by your fist in the hall where you had your first kiss reminds you that the memories will fade 020408 ... Sonya Memories cut your skin and leave a sting, but they also make your heart swell until it bursts. And they say nostalgia isn't good for you... 020408 ... birdmad prays nightly for amnesia sometimes it's an outright toxin. between the occasional sweet, opiate flashes of pleasant moments crossing my mind fifteen years worth of vaguely poisonous recollections with a tinge of hallucination here and the occasional dollop of bile there memory's a curse 020408 ... Dane They're not a curse. You control what you want to remember. Remember the good times, and you'll remember how to have a good time. Everyone has at least one good memory, or they wouldn't know the difference. Have you ever been sitting on a bus and you suddenly remember something funny? How stupid you look, laughing away quietly to yourself. You can do that now. 021118 ... oliver i forgot to go to my probation meeting. not that i care. my probation officer always tries to sleep with me anyway. 021119 ... mon uow surge 050323 ... anomalous more than words can hold 050513 ... amy in red There was a book about Father Time in Odegaard. I think I might have recorded a bit if it here. My comm. college gig has moved into the back part of the newly built library. I'm worried that a) we won't get business b/c we'll be off the beaten track. b) the new building will be too much of a distracting temptation to space out and fall asleep in. 120110 ... raze the first thing i remember is the blue cordoba. no memories of my parents together, but i can see the car they drove. when i told my dad how strange i thought that was, he laughed and said the car was more memorable than the marriage. second thing: rick. my mother's first post-marriage boyfriend. his glasses. his blonde-brown hair and moustache. his kind face. the two of us building a snowman. getting rained in when we were supposed to walk to the ice cream stand in warmer weather. sitting on the living room floor and watching a twizzlers commercial on tv. floating claymation lips without a face. something unnerving about that. third thing: getting sent to my room. sitting at the edge of my bed, feeling my fuzzy blanket against my fingers, kicking the wall. not hard, but my mother could hear me in the living room. she told me to cut it out. i kept kicking. she came into the room and spanked me. the only time i can remember her hitting me. i didn't cry. i just thought it was weird. like having to bite into a bar of soap when i said a bad word. fourth thing: a sad dream. my stuffed animals hiding under someone else's bed. fifth thing: coming home to a broken front_door. someone kicked it in and stole the tv and some jewelry but left everything else. dropping my birthday cupcake on the front porch. and music. always music. everything else grows from there. 211004 ... ancasa.reyn (a revision) memories are weird the randomness with which they pop into our heads well my head over forty-three years ago i stepped up to a bar in bowling green ohio known for beer glasses being thrown across the room i stood between a guy and the woman he was hitting on she and i made eye contact and i smiled at her and her best efforts to beat him back with her words my boyfriend plays football for oklahoma she told him i didn't believe her but i think he did and that was the one and only time i saw her i tried to write a song about that moment that woman it never worked out i wonder where she is now and what she's doing maybe in some bar beating back men claiming to have played football for oklahoma 250721 ... ancasa.reyn One of my earliest memories is of an incident that occurred when I was probably not yet four years old, sometime in 1959. I can place the date somewhat because my youngest brother, who wouldn't be born until December of that year had yet to arrive. My dad had a chair in the living room that everyone in the house knew to be his chair. One day, however, I was sitting in the chair while my two older brothers (by three and nine years) sat on the floor aside the chair. In my parents' room, my dad wailed on my mom with his belt for a transgression none of us knew anything about. Ever. When Dad died in 1992, I brought it up with my brothers and neither of them had any memory of it. At some point, I mentioned it to Mom, and she didn't deny it happened, nor would she confirm it. I'm a hundred percent certain she would have denied it had happened if it didn't happen. At that time in my dad's life, he was a pretty regular drinker, so it's possible that drunkenness might have played a role. My mom had experienced a stillbirth in September of 1958, and by March was pregnant again. Is that what angered Dad? Was she not supposed to have gotten pregnant again? Did she have an affair? She she go against Dad's wishes? Was his meal not on the table? I really do wish that as the only person to have remembered that ugly day—which, I might add, fueled a fear of my father for many years to come—I'd asked Mom about it while she was alive. 250721 what's it to you? who go blather from