I Want To Tell You Something
This is being written in real time, right now, this minute. I thought about writing this a little while ago while watching an HBO documentary about Alzheimer's Disease. It had a title which I don't at this second in time remember. Maybe I will before I stop writing this, but I don't know for sure.
This documentary had as its focus a poet, a man named Edwin Honig and it followed him on film through all the stages, even the very last one before you die; Stage 7.
At the start the viewer is asked to remember three words in order and at this moment in time, I do remember them, but throughout the film, it was a struggle for me and I'll try to explain it so you can understand what was going on in my brain, because even though it seems important, I don't understand why it should be.
Okay, the words are "chair", "tree" and "bird". As I just now wrote this, I hesitated maybe a second between each word to make sure. Is this important to you, that I had to make sure?
When the words appeared on the screen, I said to myself , "Piece of cake, Bill. Just associate the words with each other. A chair is made of wood, the wood comes from a tree, and a bird lives in that tree." With me so far, right?
So here's why I had to struggle with remembering: That damn word table kept wanting to creep in and I had to fight to make it stay out, so I wasn't really paying attention to what I was seeing, because I was working so hard to remember those three words and fighting against the table.
Okay, say it. You know you want to, so say it, dammit! Okay, I'll say it for you since we can't see each other: "Oh, that happens to me all the time, Bill!" Right? Didn't you want to say that? I knew you did and I know why, too. It was to make me feel better, wasn't it? I don't hate you for that, I don't hate anyone for that, but it does get under my skin something fierce, because you can't feel the struggle with me. And it (oh boy! I started a sentence with a conjunction! Sue me!) doesn't happen just once or twice a day, but pretty much throughout.
I have written about this before, I know, but it bears repeating: it's a struggle for us - those of us who have problems with short term memory, and so that's what I wanted to tell you, even though several minutes have now passed since I began this blog entry.
The name of the documentary is "First Cousin", and yes, I remember the words, although I had to stop typing, close my eyes and think them out loud.
This is my journal and maybe some day, someone will read it to me, but I fervently hope I can read it for myself.
This documentary had as its focus a poet, a man named Edwin Honig and it followed him on film through all the stages, even the very last one before you die; Stage 7.
At the start the viewer is asked to remember three words in order and at this moment in time, I do remember them, but throughout the film, it was a struggle for me and I'll try to explain it so you can understand what was going on in my brain, because even though it seems important, I don't understand why it should be.
Okay, the words are "chair", "tree" and "bird". As I just now wrote this, I hesitated maybe a second between each word to make sure. Is this important to you, that I had to make sure?
When the words appeared on the screen, I said to myself , "Piece of cake, Bill. Just associate the words with each other. A chair is made of wood, the wood comes from a tree, and a bird lives in that tree." With me so far, right?
So here's why I had to struggle with remembering: That damn word table kept wanting to creep in and I had to fight to make it stay out, so I wasn't really paying attention to what I was seeing, because I was working so hard to remember those three words and fighting against the table.
Okay, say it. You know you want to, so say it, dammit! Okay, I'll say it for you since we can't see each other: "Oh, that happens to me all the time, Bill!" Right? Didn't you want to say that? I knew you did and I know why, too. It was to make me feel better, wasn't it? I don't hate you for that, I don't hate anyone for that, but it does get under my skin something fierce, because you can't feel the struggle with me. And it (oh boy! I started a sentence with a conjunction! Sue me!) doesn't happen just once or twice a day, but pretty much throughout.
I have written about this before, I know, but it bears repeating: it's a struggle for us - those of us who have problems with short term memory, and so that's what I wanted to tell you, even though several minutes have now passed since I began this blog entry.
The name of the documentary is "First Cousin", and yes, I remember the words, although I had to stop typing, close my eyes and think them out loud.
This is my journal and maybe some day, someone will read it to me, but I fervently hope I can read it for myself.
Comments
Ich freue mich über den Stillstand!
Bis dann
Bill