Our moments of memory VERSUS data in storage media pretending to be memory…
Memory without writing on paper
Memory without recordings on storage media
Uncompiled, unsequenced, unnarratized memories…
morning boy's letters on serious matters and commentary on funny things aplenty
Performing the same special acts over and over in the same space. Layering one thin transparent layer of film upon another upon another. And then seeing them through the eyes of memory. Fusing and confusing them all.
I got done reading Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go this morning. And how long did I postpone reading his stories!
I want more of his stories. The glides into memories.
Memories punctuating my movements.
Movements punctuating memories.
Memory requires piling up, or you start sinking.
Social Media can’t offer that piling up.
Krishna didn’t let the Pandavas forget. He was the greatest sounding board, the greatest spokesperson and the greatest conscience keeper for Pandavas. As a keeper of conscience, his job involved reminding. Reminding. Reminding.
Social distancing has ensured that I no longer feel that close to my friends. We all talk funny things in the name of friendship. And the memories we build feel like stunted buildings.
Say I got terribly shortchanged. Unfair and this and that. So what! How many more years will I float among these images? There may be, who knows, plenty of more embarrassments to walk into and experiment and judge and have fun.
Memories have a way of coalescing, leaving you with a lot of mobile activity but no activity you can call mobile.
We click click click, we feel we are capturing the precious moments. On most occasions, we are puncturing the precious moments.
Seeking ‘convenience of creating art’, human beings ended up creating technology after technology for the purpose of memory storage, in the process constantly losing precious priceless memories.
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