A Memory

Being cold.
With each step, the crunching compounding of snow.
It’s late and it’s alone.
You can feel through heavy boots your weight crushing the snow.
You can feel your weight bringing you closer to the ground.
The glow of a cigarette fire; glowing because of the wind.
Such an unprepared moment.
I suddenly realize my obsession with memory.
My fear of forgetting.
I have so many memories fading.

Indiana, when I was a boy, probably six years old, there were twins I knew. Maybe I only knew them for a day. I can’t remember.
I didn’t understand twins. I had no one to explain it to me.
It was an afternoon. He had a soda can.
One of them did.
And said, “I can drink this entire can without stopping.”
I didn’t believe him. I don’t remember if I told him that.
He showed me anyways.
He did it. And burped.
I didn’t understand burping. I had no one explain it to me.
They had bikes and wanted to ride somewhere.
I followed.
It was getting dark.
They rode fast. I had to keep up.
I know I followed them, but I can only remember being alone.
I rode and rode, until I reached a house.
I was far from home.
No one explained I shouldn’t be so far from home.
There was a house. Dark but warm.
I don’t remember any faces, but I know I wasn’t alone.
I don’t remember what happened afterwards.
I think my parents eventually found me. I think they were angry.
I don’t remember any other day with those twins.
I don’t even know if they were real.
I don’t know why I remembered this in the cold tonight.
It has stayed with me for seventeen years, but I’m very afraid I’ll forget this one day.
There is no one to talk about it with.
No one to share this memory with. It only exists because I remember it. It won’t exist anymore when I forget it.
I wrote it down because I’m afraid it won’t exist someday.
I’m afraid so much of my life won’t exist anymore as I start to forget. I don’t know why I feel it’s important.
But
it is.
So much of what is happening, what has happened in this world exists because someone remembers it.
So much of what has happened, what is happening in this world won't exist, because somebody will have forgotten it.

Stupid

What is it about retarded home videos that we always get the impulse to share them, knowing that nobody would find them funny or interesting except for the people in it? And simply acknowledging this stupidity doesn't make it less stupid if you still do it, you know? It might actually make you seem more stupid. I mean you really gotta be stupid to be unable to resist being stupid...

Walden In the City; Montreal

I sleep about nine hours a day now. Nothing keeps me awake, nothing wakes me up. I can’t remember my dreams in the morning. I do most of it awake. I haven’t spaced out this much since I was a little boy. It’s exactly what I was looking for, exactly what I expected. I’m sure when I told my friends and family that I was leaving my distracted life in quicksand LA to go relax and rehabilitate myself in New York City, most must have thought I was lying or being stupid. I’m not sure I even believed it at the time. Regardless, I am happy and healthy in solitude for now.

I'm excited to be taking a train to Montreal from the 17th - 21st, where my Mom’s friend’s family lives. Although, the trip has been tainted by my knowledge that a little lady I once knew will be there too. Tainted might sound bitter, but only because under different circumstances, it could have been something great. If only life could be filled with simple, sensical good times, without the baggage and social guidebook. Instead, it’ll be an awful joke on me. I must laugh along however, because what else is there to do? One must remember that life has a laugh track that plays out of sync with the intended jokes, and you have to find humor in that. Worst of all however, is the fact that I impulsively informed her of this joke upon my awareness of the situation. I'm sure she didn't find the humor in it either. I can't recall another person that has caused me to be this irrational and idiotic, but I can't help but still bask in awe of what has happened to me since our encounter. It's something out of a Tolstoy novel. We do not choose these things, and so therefore, I do not regret them. Things have a way of deciding themselves.

I hope it's colder than fuck.

Things

1. Do not walk too close along the sides of buildings. Most air conditioners aren't installed properly, and fall from stories above to kill people without warning.

2. Brooklyn--"Yes, but I'm pretty on the inside."

3. Always carry a bag. You must be prepared because you have nothing but your legs in this city. You can only be part of it; you don't control anything.

4. Midtown/Theatre district pizza--$6.00 slice.

Anywhere else--$2.50 slice.

5. Public transportation = gift of time for reading. Anna Karenina, I'm fucking finishing you.

6. It's hard to explain how strong my Californian pride is, even though this has been always been my favorite city.

Flushing and Knickerbocker

Found place first day. Lucky. East Williamsburg. L-Train. The only duplex inside building. First floor and basement. Three bedrooms. Huge. Our own patio deck. Brand new everything. Rooftop view of Manhattan skyline. Ma, we got lucky. We'll be alright.

I moved to New York City.