What happens when an amnesiac regains his memory? It's not as simple as suddenly remembering what was forgotten and everything's all fine and dandy. For the longest time the mind just stays in a state of confusion, unsure of what is what anymore. Through the metaphor of writing a song, it is like composing an intro, the first verse, the chorus, et cetera. But when you are somewhere in the second verse the intro suddenly gets erased, and after you finish that verse the intro is rewritten, but in sequential placement. And so once you play the song, it sounds rather eccentric, with the introduction being heard after two verses and a chorus.
In the same sense, the cure of amnesia induces the experience of the past after the present, warping the logical continuum in the sensing of time. You transform into a person you had once been but no longer are, live a life that was once yours but now belongs to someone else entirely--someone who doesn't even really exist anymore. You relive a past that is gone. I don't mean you re-experience some memorable happening; it's more like you are who you once were, undergoing some insignificant, inconsequential event, such as taking an afternoon nap or brushing your teeth, except in the past. More simply, it's like finding a jigsaw you had once solved years ago and rebuilding it. Nothing changes, but you sort of feel as though some part of your mind is how it had been back when you were first trying to solve the puzzle. Like having a daydream or fantasy in which the scenario is your own past, but you don't remember, or rather, don't wish to consider the "future" which is in reality the present.
And that's all fine. Except in the back of your mind you feel a slight pull from something that's trying to drag you back into reality, or in this case the present. And even though in this daydream of yours you obviously would not know what lies in store in a future relative to said fantasy, a rational sector of you brain warns you against continuing into that future which you had already experienced. Therefore you unknowingly try to stay in the relative now, though that is simply no longer possible.
I guess what I'm trying to say is I just had a pretty vivid dream. Or can I even call it a dream? It's not exactly "bad" per se, but still having the effect of inducing an undesirable feeling in my gut. I think I'm gonna write a song about my gut now. Though I can't shake off the feeling it'll wind up being some ditty about indigestion. Bleh.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Exodus 3:10
As I stroll into a
local bittersweets cafe
I sweep a glance across the boards
I notice a nostalgic phrase
Sitting in my chair
the chills from outside I bear
as the doors open and two's come in
still at those simple words I stare
For a limited time try our "Vanilla Kiss"
I imagine the recipe must be
Take one part forgotten memories
Add in stubborn personalities
Mix in youthful naivete
And a dash of mint to keep the flavour cool and sweet
Walking down the road
my nose bitten by the cold
my heart is numb from before
yet my soul now warmed by memories so old
its bittersweet taste is still on my lips
Crs
Do you remember the taste of how we used to be
Do you remember the aroma of the cool grass beneath
Our backs as we lie together you and me
drifted off to sleep
local bittersweets cafe
I sweep a glance across the boards
I notice a nostalgic phrase
Sitting in my chair
the chills from outside I bear
as the doors open and two's come in
still at those simple words I stare
For a limited time try our "Vanilla Kiss"
I imagine the recipe must be
Take one part forgotten memories
Add in stubborn personalities
Mix in youthful naivete
And a dash of mint to keep the flavour cool and sweet
Walking down the road
my nose bitten by the cold
my heart is numb from before
yet my soul now warmed by memories so old
its bittersweet taste is still on my lips
Crs
Do you remember the taste of how we used to be
Do you remember the aroma of the cool grass beneath
Our backs as we lie together you and me
drifted off to sleep
Thursday, February 12, 2009
titles
gotta jot these down somewhere
headfirst into heartbreak
lessons on breathing
handprint on my heart
comet pulled from orbit
halfway through the wood
bittersweet cafe
re: written
running through
scratches
falling free
arms back, knees bent
shaking windows
the last love song
is lying the start of love?
driftwood
my optimistic philosophy
at least I'll be naive
then I won't grow old
headfirst into heartbreak
lessons on breathing
handprint on my heart
comet pulled from orbit
halfway through the wood
bittersweet cafe
re: written
running through
scratches
falling free
arms back, knees bent
shaking windows
the last love song
is lying the start of love?
driftwood
my optimistic philosophy
at least I'll be naive
then I won't grow old
Wonder
Sometimes I wonder:
Did I just waste almost a year of my life?
Did I do anything that lasts? Impact anyone? Make any impressions that'll stay?
Or just fade away not at all slowly in people's memories?
I'd always preferred the easier route, so I wonder why I'd remember spending so much time and effort on things that shouldn't really be my concern and ultimately would be care about by no one; some things even then didn't seem that important to anybody--at most worth a particle of recognition in the minds of others and probably even less in my own since when we get to the exit of the whole house-of-mirrors that is my awkward reasoning and strained excuses to force a purpose to appear and make my actions seem actually meaningful
no one really cares, and everyone forgets. I don't remember either.
Though I like to think I remember, but all I remember is how much I've forgotten.
And still life goes on. And still the same things happen. And still we make the same choices, convincing ourselves that it is the best one. And still we try our best to believe in what we try to believe. And still we walk in circles thinking that it helps us think better even when the total displacement is zero.
... ...
On a strangely related note,
Person A isn't happy and doesn't know how to be happy
Person B isn't happy and knows that if he has some cheesecake, he'll be happy.
But he lives in an alternate world,
and all the cheesecake in the world is gone,
and nobody knows how to make it,
and the recipes are all burned,
and anyone who learns or even tries to learn how to make it is killed.
Person C is similar to Person B, but his immediate superior eats all his cheesecake.
Person D is allergic to cheese. And cake.
Person E is happy.
But he is killed by one the the above people (Persons A, B, C, and D)
No, I'm not asking who the killer is. That really isn't the point
I'm just thinking about these people
and wanting some cheesecake.
Did I just waste almost a year of my life?
Did I do anything that lasts? Impact anyone? Make any impressions that'll stay?
Or just fade away not at all slowly in people's memories?
I'd always preferred the easier route, so I wonder why I'd remember spending so much time and effort on things that shouldn't really be my concern and ultimately would be care about by no one; some things even then didn't seem that important to anybody--at most worth a particle of recognition in the minds of others and probably even less in my own since when we get to the exit of the whole house-of-mirrors that is my awkward reasoning and strained excuses to force a purpose to appear and make my actions seem actually meaningful
no one really cares, and everyone forgets. I don't remember either.
Though I like to think I remember, but all I remember is how much I've forgotten.
And still life goes on. And still the same things happen. And still we make the same choices, convincing ourselves that it is the best one. And still we try our best to believe in what we try to believe. And still we walk in circles thinking that it helps us think better even when the total displacement is zero.
... ...
On a strangely related note,
Person A isn't happy and doesn't know how to be happy
Person B isn't happy and knows that if he has some cheesecake, he'll be happy.
But he lives in an alternate world,
and all the cheesecake in the world is gone,
and nobody knows how to make it,
and the recipes are all burned,
and anyone who learns or even tries to learn how to make it is killed.
Person C is similar to Person B, but his immediate superior eats all his cheesecake.
Person D is allergic to cheese. And cake.
Person E is happy.
But he is killed by one the the above people (Persons A, B, C, and D)
No, I'm not asking who the killer is. That really isn't the point
I'm just thinking about these people
and wanting some cheesecake.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I put on my overcoat
and I start thinking about all that has happened in the past year. After a week of forgetting the world with people I barely even knew, another week of in-depth self-reflection seems almost... surreal. Exactly what happened in 2008? I feel as though I had been who I was, completely changed for the better, then completely changed for the worse, then wanted to be better again but couldn't. And yet now that I look at it, I really didn't change much after all. Rather, everybody else is changing, and I'm just stuck. Do I really want to be a constant in this ever-changing world? I'm so confused. I've heard that when you feel lost, you should think about times when you were happy. Not thrilled, just deeply happy. It's called following your bliss I think; I forgot where I heard that. I tried doing that, but it just made me feel rather... well, the Polish term for this feeling would be tesknota. Too bad they don't have an English word for it.
I saw my cellphone and started browsing through it. I had changed my phone once this year, but I had stored everything on the SIM card. It was also around Jan 2008 that I first started texting, so this was almost like taking a trip through the entire year all over again. I had the habit of saving texts that I found important to me. At the time anyway.
Trying to make some sense of this year was futile. It feels as though I've wasted a year. It seems I've done nothing, at least nothing that'll last. Made no impressions, affected nobody's lives. Did I do anything at all that had any meaning? My inbox suggested that there were times I felt as if I accomplished something, or made a difference; times that mattered, times that I wanted remembered. But in retrospect, maybe those times weren't that important after all. Everyone has forgotten so much, and soon I'll be the same. It's amazing how we can become so different in so little time.
My New Year's resolution is to stop drinking. For those who know me, I'm not joking. I mean, I'm not an alcoholic or anything, and I've never been drunk enough to not take responsibility for what I do, and I do enjoy...... anyway, the point is I don't want to forget anymore. Not like this.
I began listening to a compilation called "The Quiet Escape." I vaguely recall buying it last winter. I feel kinda stupid thinking about it. Just another thing no one really remembers anymore. On the other hand, I now have a decent background to work off of. My previous scripts may all be gone along with my harddrive, but maybe that's a good thing. A completely fresh start for this script.
But in preparation for the theme of script, I must examine a certain subject. People sometimes say that a death is more painful for the loved ones than it is for the deceased, because the dead feel no pain. I find that idea... explorable to say the least, because even though the living feel more pain, most would still rather feel that pain than die themselves. Now, a question that would seem to draw certain parallels to that concept is this: to forget or to be forgotten, which is more painful? Which is more saddening? Which is more preferable? Of course, many would say that those who forget are simply free. But what if you didn't want to forget? What if you knew you forgot, and yet knew you wanted to remember? And now I am hungry and heading out for food, which is why I put on my overcoat to begin with.
I saw my cellphone and started browsing through it. I had changed my phone once this year, but I had stored everything on the SIM card. It was also around Jan 2008 that I first started texting, so this was almost like taking a trip through the entire year all over again. I had the habit of saving texts that I found important to me. At the time anyway.
Trying to make some sense of this year was futile. It feels as though I've wasted a year. It seems I've done nothing, at least nothing that'll last. Made no impressions, affected nobody's lives. Did I do anything at all that had any meaning? My inbox suggested that there were times I felt as if I accomplished something, or made a difference; times that mattered, times that I wanted remembered. But in retrospect, maybe those times weren't that important after all. Everyone has forgotten so much, and soon I'll be the same. It's amazing how we can become so different in so little time.
My New Year's resolution is to stop drinking. For those who know me, I'm not joking. I mean, I'm not an alcoholic or anything, and I've never been drunk enough to not take responsibility for what I do, and I do enjoy...... anyway, the point is I don't want to forget anymore. Not like this.
I began listening to a compilation called "The Quiet Escape." I vaguely recall buying it last winter. I feel kinda stupid thinking about it. Just another thing no one really remembers anymore. On the other hand, I now have a decent background to work off of. My previous scripts may all be gone along with my harddrive, but maybe that's a good thing. A completely fresh start for this script.
But in preparation for the theme of script, I must examine a certain subject. People sometimes say that a death is more painful for the loved ones than it is for the deceased, because the dead feel no pain. I find that idea... explorable to say the least, because even though the living feel more pain, most would still rather feel that pain than die themselves. Now, a question that would seem to draw certain parallels to that concept is this: to forget or to be forgotten, which is more painful? Which is more saddening? Which is more preferable? Of course, many would say that those who forget are simply free. But what if you didn't want to forget? What if you knew you forgot, and yet knew you wanted to remember? And now I am hungry and heading out for food, which is why I put on my overcoat to begin with.
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