When is a memory not a memory? Should not two people who shared an experience both remember it, and if they do not, is the memory negated, even if documentary evidence of the shared incident is available? In going over recollections and ruminations I find, as was true 30 years ago, that we both remember things very differently. That’s probably not unusual, but I have found the specificity of the memory lapses curious. She has no memory of my room at the Parc Lincoln, which she visited at least twice, I want to say she came over a few times more than that but I can say with certainty there were two visits. We spent most of our nights together at her SRO, a room which I remember differently from her. I also remember when she had traveled overseas for a months or so, and making comments upon her return I cannot quote because they are too specific. But she made what I thought were eloquent comments on coming down from the high of being overseas back down to the mundane drudgery of returning to a regular job. She said it in such an evocative, true way… but then denied ever saying it or even having entertained such thoughts of coming down off that high. That was 30 years ago and I’m not going to bring up that clear-as-day memory again. We’ve barely even talked about the sex, which I remember as being gratifying but awkward, as is normal for me at first.
Rain is the name of the day this Saturday. Commute was OK for a weekend. I was just over an hour early.
I finally got a haircut last week. I waited several weeks because I cut my head while masturbating and I wanted that injury to fully heal before allowing a scissors and sharp-object-wielfing Bolivian woman get too close to it. I would have had to explain that there was a cut and, because I have no filter with this particular woman, I would have to tell the truth about how it happened. Better to let it heal and grow my hair out to pandemic lengths than face that situation.
