Thu, 19 May 2005

ola
My friend Michelle has a magic dress she wears on memorable occasions, not because it’s particularly stunning, but because it holds odors particularly well, which is important as she never washes it. Michelle always thought it was a cruel biological trick that humans shed skin, as skin is the closest thing she has to memory. “Everything I ever touched should be immediately apparent across my fingertips,” she says, “but it always fades and disappears, and that’s why I have a magic dress.”

I told her that the magic dress seemed less than ideal, as powerful odors would block out subtler scents, the delicate overpowered by the oppressive, and she gave me a sideways glance. “That’s how everything is with memory. Isn’t it?”

I thought about how trivial and incidental all my memories are, like misshot photographs of empty sky and blurred treelines, and I thought maybe the magic dress truly is a better form of memory, and nodded approval as I wired up the new preamp.
(12:25.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #