_________ Surrounded by symbols. Burning like a poke in the eye. Seem I a vague sense of compilation to remember. Assembling verbs and nouns and suchness to form a semblanced map of thought puzzled together.
Ontological amnesiosis led mammalian ego to scramble at utterances possibly collective and ancient enough to grasp the big accident, or no? How impressive is the forgetting and who chooses the magnitude of amnesia’s oblivion? Recollecting the shrapnel. Is there a certain breadth or depth of the symbolic lake to demonstrate wisdom? Or is it in the way and the deliberation with which one picks thru the scrapyard?
However we deal with memories, these things, suchnesses of signs, we create and they further create us. We reinforce memories like we spin prayer wheels to feel the revolving subtle weight of the symbol. Memory thrives on imitation, and our symbols reinforce it like slang that gets slangier. Nostalgic clapping hands say “I will remember what you remember, okay?!” Our fingers still feel the clapping. What do we meme about speak about what members of memory are we allowing into our brain-folds?
Memory isn't indifferent. We forget so easily the terror of lynchings, and yet remember so well who “The Great Bambino” is and maybe even the story of Babe Ruth pointing to the center-field stands at Wrigley Field and then cracking a home run to center on the next pitch. Most of us could not name anyone from the thousands lynched. Not one name. But we remember that some guy named Charles Lindbergh flew nonstop from New York to Paris. Or that Russia launched a satellite named Sputnik.
I wonder about these pieces of ours. These traces of us. What collective dementia we acknowledge. Walk into a wonky house of mirrors: see the crowds hand cash for tickets for illusions. Lines blur: halls of memory or phantoms of fantasy. Maybe signal evolution will connect us deeper and bring us closer to the essence of our memories and the truth they hold. _________
Comments