Memoirs of a Forgotten Man
A man wakes up in a strange room. In a strange hotel. In
a strange city. A note is taped to his forehead. He removes
it and strains to read the handwriting in the dark. An impulse
leads him to turn on the bedside lamp. The writing becomes
- I am you. You are me. You remember nothing. Good morning.
Indeed. This man remembers nothing. What he did the night
before. Or the day before. Or the day before that. Where
he grew up. Where his parents are from. Who his parents
are. No high school sweetheart memories. Doesn't even
remember what he likes to eat for breakfast. Until he finds
the next note. This one rests on a desk. Turns out there
are hundreds of notes lying around the room. This one states
that it should be read first.
- Go downstairs to the deli. The man there knows what you
like to eat.
Taped to the note is a currency note. Again, an impulse
leads him to pocket the note. And a pain he understands
as hunger leads him downstairs.
At the deli, a man at the counter recognizes him. And
begins to scramble some eggs. The man objects and orders
a donut instead. And some coffee. And he sits down.
As he eats, the man does not remember a time long ago
when he ordered donuts and coffee and walked along a
beachfront boardwalk and met his first great love. No,
he simply eats because he is hungry and the donut looked
As he leaves the deli, though he remembers nothing, the
man understands 2 things -- he is alive and very dangerous.
And he heads back upstairs to his room. To read. And
discover who he is... and what he is going to do next.
What are we without memories. Why is it, when we recount
the events of our lives, instead of celebrating the
event, we say things like "Ah, the Roaring Twenties, so
many great memories..."? And what's with all the pictures
people take and all those camcorders I see covering up the
faces of many a tourist? It seems that people would
rather capture the moment than live the moment.
Deja Vu. I've got a theory about that. I believe
that, much like computers, our bodies are a complex
machine that requires memory to function. And, just
like computers, out bodies "back up" all those
pieces of data at various intervals. And in this
process, some memories get mixed up with whatever
you are currently doing. And therefore, you find
yourself remembering what you are doing at the moment.
When we remember, do we remember the events themselves or
do we remember our memories of the events?
Some artist paint portraits. Some artists paint landscapes.
Some use oils or watercolors or pastels. Some capture the
smallest of details. Other capture an impression of an
object or a scene.
Some artists paint what is there. Some artists paint what
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Read Part Two
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