2:14 p.m. - April 27, 2002
Fugue
What comes to mind about yesterday's photo is some degree of anger and resignation. Anger because I have no memories or recollections or even vague impressions about myself and the world as I experienced it at that age. None.
My earliest memory is reading a Time Life book on The Universe to my brother who was a toddler, so I was at least 5 years old. That's it. I don't remember swinging at the park or
hey! I remember playing in a house made of cardboard boxes wih a light blue sheet or blanket overhead through which the light shone and feeling warm and protected on the floor and I'm thinking it was only my sister and I so I must have been three because my family moved into a house when I was four and the beige pile carpet wasn't in that house but in the apartment instead. The blue blanket was sloped like an A-frame roof and the cardboard boxes stacked at least 5 high and I'm certain it was a blanket because now I'm remembering the feel of the nubs against my feet and hands. Polyester/cotton blend nubs. You know the type?
OK, so now what? Now I remember a blue blanket and carboard boxes. What am I supposed to do with it other than store it away?
Perhaps this is the goal, to turn everybody into epistemologists?
