Part of a Story by Harry Buckminster Richman

The Memory Paradox; a story in many parts (Parts 1-3)

Part One: The Remembrance of Steven Adler or In Lieu of an Introduction

I pride (or pity, depending on how I feel) myself on being able to remember a whole lot of stuff - the example I oft will cite is that I can tell you the highlights of the summer 1994 season of MTV's The Real World, which may not seem an achievement, but I assure you, this is something I have never made any attempt to remember and have googled maybe once in the last fifteen years. But the problem is that when you remember a whole lot of stuff is that your memory is full of just that; stuff.

This is where I must explain how my memory works - I could fairly easily tell you the Guns n' Roses line up that recorded Appetite (and in what order they left) or even summarize all four seasons of Saved By The Bell, including why the Tori paradox totally mattered. But, what I can't tell you is the name of the girl with whom I shared a few cigarettes a couple of months back - memories of real life seem so inconsequential compared to memories of pop culture.

Everyone's mind works differently, but from quite a few years of getting to know mine I can say that I can pretty much remember most abstract events in an historical context. That is to say, I doubt I will remember exactly when these events happened, and potentially may confuse a few but usually don't entirely forget the event entirely.

I have come to the conclusion that this is possibly why I don't like anything that has too many sequels, i.e. more than one, as I am slightly unable to keep track of which bits happened in which volume. But yes, I remember a hell of a lot of junk.

Part Two: In Want of a Time Machine

Smell is often cited as the main cause of deja-vu, but there are many things far more powerful and vivid than deju-vu and these are most certainly not caused by smell.

I recently bought Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette. I probably should have known better;  she is one of those musicians who, for me, mean something very powerful yet slightly theoretical. Certainly, she reminds me of the past, but which past I cannot be sure. Am I sure that hearing You Outta Know reminds me of being younger, or could it be evoking a memory of something like Reality Bites, from which my mind weaves a fictional past of missed opportunities for myself? It is not at all clear, for I can defiantly remember listening to Alanis Morissette, but do I necessarily care that I listened to Alanis Morissette when I think I listened to Alanis Morissette? And, does it really matter for me?

When I listened to a few songs, it caused a brief, but rather real, panic attack. What I cannot tell is whether the anxiety over Ironicwas due to a fear that 1995 is gone for me and not coming back  (what I hope it means), or was it because something since 1995 has told me that Hand In my Pocket should signify something happening, something far greater than what is happening. If it is the latter, I should be quite worried, as it could potentially mean that this and many other memories are not memories at all, that my fears are not real fears. In effect it can mean that anywhere between one and most of my memories are simply implants, things I have tricked myself into thinking I am supposed to think. Take the song Don't You (Forget About Me) as an example; anyone who has ever seenThe Breakfast Club will find it hard to listen to this song without feeling like some sort of monuments breakthrough in their life should be occurring to coincide with the lyrics urging that you 'don't forget about me'. Now, apply that same feeling across the entire body of music you have listened to.

Let it be noted, that this is very different from the expectationscinema and television can give off. If it is true that I am remembering a fictional past, based upon ideas gathered from various, and forgotten, corners of popular culture, then it must be that I have, in some point in my history written these expectations to memory as facts.

As an exercise I am trying to recall the origin of my memory regarding the song 'Blister in the Sun' by the Violent Femmes. For me it evokes an incredibly hot summer, and being very hot whilst doing almost nothing at all. But, did that really happen? This song was released some years before I could possibly remember any event like this happening, so it would be extremely strange were I to have heard that song more than once, yet I would be impressed were I to have so thoroughly imprinted 'Blister in the Sun' upon one chance listening. However, the song is featured prominantly in the late nineties John Cusack film 'Grosse Pointe Blank', which is seemingly set during the summer in small town America. It is not inconceivable that it is this that causes me to think that I heard, and enjoyed, that song at some point in the mid to late nineties, and have saved that to my memory as an occurrence in my life. Does this invalidate all cultural resonance this song has with me? Or at least, should it?

Part Three: An Interlude to Ensure the Proper Recollection of Daria

She Knows she's a winner.

She couldn't be any thinnner.

Now she goes to the bathroom

And vomits up dinner.

-Daria, February 1998