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She says it’s God’s own irony that I have memory pangs but no memories.

Before my trauma event I lived with Joyce and her cat Reggae in Joyce’s apartment on the first floor of a five-story building on East Twelfth Street in Manhattan. The apartment has one bedroom and a small deck in back where we sat and did the crossword puzzle on Sunday mornings although sometimes we stayed in bed until lunchtime. Of course I don’t remember this happening. Joyce told me that’s what we did, and she showed me pictures and some home DVDs. She says that as soon as I am better we will live together in that apartment again. Dr. Anderson loaded the pictures and DVDs into pMemory for me, along with other stuff from my past like family photos and my dad’s home movies. I’ve looked at those things so often that sometimes I think I remember them really happening, but the memories are secondhand.

– From “Practicing My Sad Face” by Marc Schultz

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2 Comments

  1. Anne wrote:

    This story was kind of creepy and depressing. For the record, I don’t ever want to be a bionic version of what ever is left of my body.

    Saturday, January 31, 2009 at 7:23 pm | Permalink
  2. Me neither! Well, I think it would be bad-ass to be some sort of cyborg if I got to keep my personality/memories/mind intact. But if my brain function is gone, I’m done.

    Saturday, January 31, 2009 at 8:03 pm | Permalink