Magic Memories, Tricks of the Mind
The mind can play strange tricks. It’s possible to go to sleep and dream of winning a raffle, then wake up in the morning next to the chairperson of the church fête committee. It’s possible to think of a person then later to meet them in a shop. Freaky.
Memory is particularly vulnerable to muddle and manipulation. Who among us hasn’t at some time been quite sure that something had happened, only to find, later, that it had just been a stick cartoon drawn by your uncle. A really vivid one.
Happens to the best of us. Who among us hasn’t forgotten something, sometime, and thought, Tch! I wish I had a better memory!!!
Anyway, this isn’t really to do with that. I wanted a nice intro, and I honestly think that was one. Weird, eh?
There was a memory man on Saturday Live, a really nice man called Ben Pridmore. Ben has won the World Memory Championship and is currently number two in the world in the memory sports ranking. Not bad for an unassuming man in a black felt hat with a surprisingly soft voice, a bit like Jon Ronson’s. I just googled him and it turns out he had his own blog. He doesn’t mention me, of course. He’s not that sort of memory man.
Anyway, I wrote a poem inspired by his presence. I thought I’d try to tease out the difference between the memory as a muscle and the tricks it can perform, alongside the kind of memories we tend to value and cherish. I did this with limited success, nevertheless I like the poem, though I say it as shouldn’t.
Magical Memories – a regrettably forgettable yet unforgetful love poem
I remember the dress that you wore when we met
The dress with the dots – how could I forget
Two hundred and four – none exactly the same
I counted them all as you came through the door
…I gave each one a name
We walked out together, beneath a lumpy grey sky
I see it so clearly now in my mind’s eye,
The pavement, the drizzle, the cars grumbling by…
Ford Mondeo, blue, N76 RBT
Toyota Corolla, white, C213 XPL
Citroen Picasso, red S79 YAE
You kissed me. I missed one. But I didn’t mind.
We were young. We had time.
The restaurant. We held hands. Once more we kissed.
And whispered sweet nothings - well, you did,
I whispered the whole set menu and wine list…
[And what’s really nice is:
I can still recite it, including the prices]
And then back to your place, your face stuck to my face
While my eyes memorised your cd’s
I noticed a book there beside the computer
The abridged Kama Sutra (for the hurried lover)
And took a quick look – in two minutes, I’d read it – from cover to cover
You said, Hey do you seriously think that kind of thing can impress me?
And I closed the book, and my eyes, and said, Test me.
There you have it. What do you reckon? I was glad/relieved/ that they all laughed at the end. [They being Ben, Muriel Gray (on stand-in duty for Fi Glover) and Bettany Hughes, historian, broadcaster, author of Helen of Troy: Goddess, Princess, Whore. I put this in because for some reason I feel we all have a duty to read it, and her next book, which is a biography of Socrates.]
But the highest praise came from Maria, executive producer, who told me the poem was timed at 1.01 mins. A record for Saturday Live poets, she said. There’s management skill for you. I’m bound to be in under the minute next time. (Next time is December 1st, thanks for wondering.)
November 19th, 2007 at 4:14 pm
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November 20th, 2007 at 4:13 pm
I love this poem. I heard it “live” indeed, on Saturday Live, but my brain was only just awake, not very live at all, and hearing the poem in this state meant I woke up properly and smiled. Not something that always happens. All too often when I wake up properly the first noise is a groan. But I love this poem. It shows the Romantic and the Nerd can be one and the same, and even at the same time.
And, because synchronicity makes me smile too… I’ve just finished a book by a Cordelia Fine (and with such a name you’d just HAVE to write a book, I think). It is ‘A Mind of Its Own - How our brains deceive and delude us’. It is funny and frightening (you’ll never trust yourself again) but very very very useful in working out how you might just be able to trust yourself sometimes, and exactly why some people are such bastards…
November 28th, 2007 at 7:24 pm
Thanks Mandy, I love the way you move from the difficulties in trusting yourself to why some people are such bastards.
You make me want to read Cordelia Fine’s book. It has a great title. At least it seems a great title, but I could be kidding myself. How would I know? If you read the book and are persuaded by its arguments, how can you be sure you really are persuaded,and not just, say, reminded of a favourite uncle?
It’s late Mandy, I’m not sure I should be allowed to type things in public places right now.
I’m really glad you liked the poem. Yes, the Romantic and the Nerd. Every nerd has his day. Nerdigras….
April 28th, 2008 at 12:19 pm
Hi Matt, sorry for not mentioning you on my blog back in November - had I known you had a blog too, I would have thrown in a link to it, but I’ve only just discovered it today. Still, it brings back happy memories