Memory blocks me with every problem in the book. Not that every problem is a memory, but every problem comes with memory blocks. Inverse aphasia, exfoliation. Studies suggest depression makes memory more acute. Depressive realists: they’d never stick chins out, get their blocks knocked off. Not like I do, though I don’t want to be here, off-stage while Edgar eulogizes the King of Block. Memory’s paranoid: compassion does not suit its sword. Is it armor or an ill-named nakedness that covers my view of the field with its stain? Legos replaced our blocks, a more sturdy structure, bricks with nipples to rest inside another’s holes. Konahuanui (“large testicles”) erupt near the Pali, while Koko Head’s connotations are more properly vaginal. Sir Ian dropped his knickers in performance (“impressive genitalia,” notes Germaine Greer), but the video spares our eyes. It’s we who see feelingly, if feeling be memory codified. Re-member it!
–24 April 2011