Back in yeshiva when I was either very bored or very tired (the latter happened a good deal more than the former) I used to press really hard on my eyelids. Until I saw stars. Or comets, kaleidoscopes, and spinning rocks. And they were all moving. Sometimes coming at me. Sometimes going away. I don't recall the actual point of this exercise but it's a memory nonetheless (and frankly, one of my more disturbing ones).
Memories (I spelled that wrong and Mr. iPad thought it should be "mom Orion's". Go figure.) are a hard thing to capture. But it generally is a good thing to try. Somehow with either words, a song, maybe a smell, a food, or a photo. Or possibly a combination.
(There is a cockroach running around. Not cool. What is it about them that inspire such disgust?)
The thing is memories aren't really of events they're more of how said events made us feel. We don't see life, we experience it (hopefully). And that's what needs capturing. It's why not all photos or songs are created equal. Some can even make you remember things that never happened. They'll pull on some strings deep down. Maybe bring a sigh or a tear. There's a bit of magic and alchemy involved.
It's something I've been trying to think about for a bit now. To think of the eventual resting place of a photograph. What do I want it to say. What emotion(s) needs to be hidden in there. Somewhere. Somehow.
I'm writing this at a ridiculous hour of the night/early morning. The hour of the drive by chuckage of rolled up papers that no one reads. Some time between wine and coffee. Steak and bagel. So if there is a seeming lack of connection between the content of this wordy mess and the memories recorded below, I plead insanity, lack of caffeine, too much caffeine, and an overabundance of alcohol abstinence.
We started at home with some milk, cookies, and a slightly aged (ahem) wine. We then moved on to dog food (well Neville did at least). Onto a favorite bar/restaurant for some more wine, beer, and coffee (water is for the meek). Followed by a walk around town, past the magazine stand, across some streets, and finally down the intergalactic sidewalk. 'twas wonderful.
