 01. |
The night before Jesse’s plea
we stayed up all night. Maybe I shot the video tape so that I wouldn’t
have to remember it myself. It’s a possibility. Because I don’t
really remember it outside of the tape, like when your parents take
pictures of you, do you remember the being there or do you remember
just the photograph hanging on the wall?
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02. |
… the true choice apropos of historical
traumas is not the one between remembering and forgetting them: traumas
we are not ready or able to remember haunt us all the more forcefully.
We should therefore accept the paradox that, in order to really forget
an event, we must first summon up the strength to remember it properly.
In order to account for this paradox, we should bear in mind that the
opposite of existence is not nonexistence, but insistence: that which
does not exist, continues to insist, striving towards existence. |
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03. |
What will be the future of the individual
imagination in what is usually called the “civilisation of the
image”? Will the power of evoking images of things that are not
there continue to develop in a human race increasingly inundated by
a flood of prefabricated images? At one time the visual memory of an
individual was limited to the heritage of his direct experiences and
to a restricted repertory of images reflected in culture. |
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04. |
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05. |
| And as the mole on my right breast is
where it was when I was born, though all my body has been woven of new
stuff time after time, so through the ghost of the unquiet father the
image of the unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of imagination,
when the mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which I was is that
which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the future,
the sister of the past, I may see myself as I sit here now but by reflection
from that which then I shall be. James Joyce 1922 Ulysses, Penguin Books, ISBN 0-14-118280-6 (pbk.) |
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09. |
| You were a ghost. I found you in shadows
and reached out to you in terrible ways. You didn’t censure me.
You withstood my assaults and let me punish myself. You made me. You formed me. You gave me a ghostly presence to brutalise.
I never wondered how you haunted other people. I never questioned my sole
ownership of your spirit. I wouldn’t share my claim. I remade you perversely and sealed you
off where others couldn’t touch you. I didn’t know that simple
selfishness rendered all my claims invalid. James Ellroy My Dark Places, Century Books, Random House 1996 ISBN 0 09 954961 1 |
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08. |
This is the hour when mysteries emerge – A strangeness so hard to reflect – A moment so moving, goes straight to your heart – The vision has never been met – The attraction is held like a weight deep inside – Something I’ll never forget – The pattern is set, her reaction will start – Complete but rejected too soon – Looking ahead in the grip of each fear – Recalls the life that we knew – The shadow that stood by the side of the road – Always reminds me of you – How can I find the right way to control – All the conflict inside, all the problems beside – As the questions arise, and the answers don’t fit – Into my way of things – Into my way of things. Ian Curtis, Joy Division
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06. |
| Let’s say that the Imperial gaze
just grazes your face – just grazes! You could say that it was really
nothing, but on the other hand, how could it really be nothing, when it
did graze you? Immediately you feel the temperature of your face rise,
and the blood rush to your head, and your heart beat harder. These are
the best proofs that the eye of the Protector has touched you, but so
what? These proofs are of no importance at the moment. More important
is the process that might have taken place in His Majesty’s memory. Ryszard Kapuscinski 1978 The Emperor, Vintage Books pub. ISBN 0-679-72203-3 (pbk.) |
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10. |
| “Until now, Poland has covered
an area in my head coeval with the dimensions of reality, and all other
places on the globe have been measured by their distance from it. Now,
simultaneously, I see it as my classmates do – a distant spot, somewhere
on the peripheries of the imagination, crowded together with countless
other hard to remember places of equal insignificance. The reference points
inside my head are beginning to do a flickering dance. I suppose this
is the most palpable meaning of displacement. Eva Hoffman 1989 Lost in Translation, Vintage Books ISBN 0-7493-9070-0 |
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30. |
| He was still standing in the ropes, trapped
as he had been before, he gave some little half-smile of regret, as if
he were saying, “I didn’t know I was going to die just yet,”
and then, his head leaning back but still erect, his death came to breathe
about him. He began to pass away. He went down more slowly than any fighter
had ever gone down, he went down like a large ship which turns on end
and slides second by second into its grave. As he went down, the sound
of Griffith’s punches echoed in the mind like a heavy ax in the
distance chopping into a wet log. Norman Mailer, “Ten Thousand Words a Minute” Quote taken from On Boxing, Joyce Carol Oates 1987 Pan Books, ISBN 0-330-30342-2 |
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32. |
| Despite
great effort t o account for the last few days and how I had come to be
in this place, I was unable even to determine whether I was in the land
of the living or already in another place. Nor did this lapse of memory
improve in the slightest after I climbed to the topmost gallery of the
cathedral and from there, beset by recurring fits of vertigo, gazed out
upon the dusky, hazy panorama of a city now altogether alien to me. Where
the word “Milan” ought to have appeared in my mind there was
nothing but a painful, inane reflex. |
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