Perhaps my last post displayed my distaste for people who assume that I am not paying any attention. I think paying attention has some quite complex meanings in days of extreme economic insecurity. As in, most people do not trust anyone around them, and it creeps slowly into social relations.
Every city I have lived in reminds me of how far from home I really am. No one was looking at me, or paying any attention to me, when I first moved to New York City as a transfer student. I wrote off cell phones at the turn of the century, hoping that fad would eventually pass. Live journaling seemed to virtual. I was never one to have a deep drive for a fine tuned community, and I didn’t particularly like to sit in front of a computer for time on end.
Machines can’t control my senses! I will move to the biggest machine of a city in the world! Haha!
So begs this project. I am going to start jogging personal memories from every year of my life. Unlike free market extremists, I do think that it is important to understand the past, to comb through the rubble and pick out the memories you can.
Oh, and I mostly just want to track what music I was listening to at any given point of my life.
0-4:
Okay, well, I can say I do have a couple of memories from that era.
These memories are not the same as watching the videos my parents shot of me on the camcorder. I am glad they have memories for me to laugh at sometimes. Like the time I chased pigeons in Square in New Orleans. Sometimes I will share those memories too.
3-4:
Some jerk with a mullet who entered the living room while I was obsessing over the jingle in Walk of Life. He was Susan’s boyfriend. While I was watching people walk, he picks the remote and changes the channel to some dumb show.
I loved this ice cream dress. Creamsicle, strawberry and grape all in fruit stripes with an ice cream cone in the center. Mom made me take it off so she could wash it. I was scared the ice cream dress would disappear.
Mama’s Big Truck.
…Next Story (Mamma’s Big Truck)
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