I told my mother the salad wasn’t going to fill me up, so I had the usual rye bread with guacamole with the salad. She tells me I need more variety in my diet but so far I’ve been fairly healthy. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve had a cold since February. Or six months ago – whichever comes first. I’ve been taking vitamins ever since. It’s done me good.
This memory of mine, I’m sure it’ll become a part of yours too. After all, I’m sharing it with you aren’t I? Was it Rimbaud who said, “Mes pensées est ton pensées aussi?” Or was it Poulet? “Les idées sont putains!” Either way, you get the message. You’re reading my words, the words become your thoughts, but still, they are my words, my memories, all a part of my life then and now. Okay, some may be false but that’s how I remember them. Someone recently told me that every time you recall a memory, it is reconstructed bottom up, so basically, everything you remember is a construction. Mind. Fucked. Sideways. I’m not lying. Well, at least my mind seems to be telling the truth. I did feel honest when I told you that just now. Maybe it’s for recalling distant memories, not the immediate past, since, after all, it did just happen and fresh in your mind. This, however, took place a little more than three years ago around this time, when it was hot, humid, and just about boiling.