The above quote is from Diogenes the Epicurean although this post has little to do with any of that (I like the quote though). What this post does have to do with is memory. Recently I reorganised my files on my computer and discovered that I had written an essay on the Epicureans. This was something of a shock to me since, in my current state, I know absolutely nothing about Epicurus or his mates (as I elaborated on to k-punk & k-toe grrl in a yahoo conference). However, evidence proves that I did indeed write this essay and that at some point in my short existence I had knowledge of Epicurus, Diogenes et al and their notions of happiness, pleasure and pain.

I usually don't forget that I've written an essay but I often forget the content. I read over a short passage from my dissertation not too long ago and I thought 'surely I didn't write this,' somewhat amazed that I had done such a short time ago. Mark argues that writing is never subjective... perhaps he is right, I'd need to write more to figure it out. But it does seem on rereading things that I have written, that I could not possibly have written this (nb: this isn't the case with my blog which is usually mind spew rather than a serious critique).

Essays aren't the only things I forget; I forget everything and often get myself into trouble by forgetting important incidents and looking dumb when they are brought up. "Who? What? No, I wasn't there. Was I really? Weird...." An incredulous look tends to follow coupled with frantic searching for said memory. Childhood is a dark, adolescence is patchy and little remains of the past few years. One thing tends to run into another, usually nonsensical and dreamlike.

Deleuze & Nietzsche have interesting things to say about memory and forgetting. I might decide to make a post on it sometime.... or I may forget. However, I will say, that if my 'active' faculty of forgetting is still working then I shall not be the man (woman) of ressentiment, which might be a shame 'cause such people are always more interesting.