{"id":5932,"date":"2009-10-30T10:04:29","date_gmt":"2009-10-30T14:04:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=5932"},"modified":"2009-10-30T10:04:29","modified_gmt":"2009-10-30T14:04:29","slug":"have-i-forgotten-to-remember-to-answer-the-right-question","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2009\/10\/have-i-forgotten-to-remember-to-answer-the-right-question\/","title":{"rendered":"Have I Forgotten to Remember to Answer the Right Question?"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>[Found this image here<\/a>.]<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/em><\/a> (highlighted<\/span> portion):<\/p>\n

The Difficult Simplicity of Certain Contemplations<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tapping a tarot card with her dusky finger,
\nthe woman tells me<\/span>
\nsit with your emptiness,
\nin time answers will come.<\/span><\/em>
\nShe says I know them all and only must remember.<\/p>\n

My friend tells me I must decide what is enough,
\nthen live with it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Even my shiny-suited banker waxes wise, asks me
\nif I think rich people are happier than I.<\/span><\/p>\n

But always there’s the knowledge
\nof how all this will end.<\/span><\/p>\n

In between<\/span>
\nwe try to love a life that’s like a man who can’t commit–
\na little restless, always vague<\/span>
\nwhen someone asks when are you going to. . . <\/em>,<\/p>\n

a life that’s like the ragged, feral cat
\nmewling at the door,<\/span>
\ninsinuating with its cheek and hunger.
\nWe give it mercy or rough blame.<\/span><\/p>\n

I’ll tell you what love of this life is. It’s looking up
\nthrough trees newly bare of leaves<\/span>
\nand seeing there the oldest road,
\na broken line of white stars<\/span>
\nstretching out across the sky.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

It’s thinking,
\nthis could almost be enough.<\/span><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Susan Elbe [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

A Yes-or-No Answer<\/strong><\/p>\n

Have you read The Story of O<\/em>?
\nWill Buffalo sink under all that snow?
\nDo you double-dip your Oreo?
\nPlease answer the question yes or no.<\/p>\n

The surgery — was it touch-and-go?
\nDoes a corpse’s hair continue to grow?
\nRemember when we were simpatico?
\nAnswer my question: yes or no.<\/p>\n

Do you want another cup of joe?
\nIf I touch you, is it apropos?
\nAre you certain that you’re hetero?
\nIs your answer yes or no?<\/p>\n

Did you lie to me, like Pinocchio?
\nWas forbidden fruit the cause of woe?
\nDid you ever sleep with that so-and-so?
\nJust answer the question: yes or no.<\/p>\n

Did you nail her under the mistletoe?
\nWill you spare me the details, blow by blow?
\nDid she sing sweeter than a vireo?
\nI need an answer. Yes or no?<\/p>\n

Are we still a dog-and-pony show?
\nShall we change partners and do-si-do?
\nAre you planning on the old heave-ho?
\nCheck an answer: Yes ☐\u00a0\u00a0 No ☐.<\/p>\n

Was something blue in my trousseau?
\nDo you take this man, this woman? Oh,
\nbut that was very long ago.
\nDid we say yes? Did we say no?<\/p>\n

For better or for worse? Ergo,
\nshall we play it over, in slow mo?
\nDo you love me? Do you know?
\nMaybe yes. Maybe no.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/form>\n

(Jane Shore<\/a> [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

We, in a glance, perceive three wine glasses on the table; Funes saw all the shoots, clusters, and grapes of the vine. He remembered the shapes of the clouds in the south at dawn on the 30th of April of 1882, and he could compare them in his recollection with the marbled grain in the design of a leather-bound book which he had seen only once, and with the lines in the spray which an oar raised in the Rio Negro on the eve of the battle of the Quebracho. These recollections were not simple; each visual image was linked to muscular sensations, thermal sensations, etc. He could reconstruct all his dreams, all his fancies. Two or three times he had reconstructed an entire day. He told me: I have more memories in myself alone than all men have had since the world was a world<\/em>. And again: My dreams are like your vigils<\/em>. And again, toward dawn: My memory, sir, is like a garbage disposal<\/em>.<\/p>\n

A circumference on a blackboard, a rectangular triangle, a rhomb, are forms which we can fully intuit; the same held true with Ireneo for the tempestuous mane of a stallion, a herd of cattle in a pass, the ever-changing flame or the innumerable ash, the many faces of a dead man during the course of a protracted wake. He could perceive I do not know how many stars in the sky.<\/p>\n

…It was not only difficult for him to understand that the generic term dog<\/em> embraced so many unlike specimens of differing sizes and different forms; he was disturbed by the fact that a dog at three-fourteen (seen in profile) should have the same name as the dog at three-fifteen (seen from the front).<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Jorge Luis Borges, from Funes the Memorious<\/em> [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

The indie band Low vs Diamond<\/a> seems to have come out of nowhere, or maybe (per usual) I just slept through the whole thing. Rolling Stone<\/em> selected their song “Don’t Forget Sister” — from their first<\/em> album — as #59 in the magazine’s list of The 100 Best Singles of 2008, saying<\/a>:<\/p>\n

This elegiac tune from these L.A. newcomers is the year’s best arena-rock anthem never to hit an arena. The chord progression echoes “Baba O’Riley”; the vocals are styled after Bono.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(The reference to “Baba O’Riley” caught my eye at once — for reasons<\/a> probably no one but I will probably remember. Or forget, for that matter.)<\/p>\n

Yeah: the year’s best arena-rock anthem never to hit an arena<\/em>. Which reminds me of the line by Firesign Theatre<\/a>, on their Everything You Know Is Wrong<\/em> album: “Benjamin Franklin: the only President of the United States… who was never President of the United States.” Anyway, here’s the video for “Don’t Forget Sister” (lyrics below).<\/p>\n

<\/object><\/p>\n

Lyrics:<\/p>\n

Don’t Forget Sister<\/strong>
\nby Low vs Diamond<\/em><\/p>\n

Poor boy
\nYou played it cool with the rich boys
\nYou messed around with their rich toys
\nYou tried so hard to play it smooth<\/p>\n

The page turned to the chapter with the best line
\nYou thought the book was never-ending
\nYou thought you’d get to drink their wine<\/p>\n

Sister came down from Watertown with the message:
\n”Your twisted head is getting messed with
\nI can see it in your eyes
\nLeft out
\nYou couldn’t wait to be bought out
\nSo you went ahead and sold out
\nWith your twenty-dollar lies”<\/em><\/p>\n

And she said,
\n”Don’t forget, sister
\nYou should always be true
\nYou come from a good home
\nI won’t forget you”<\/em><\/p>\n

Drowning in a city filled with blue blood
\nCan’t you see your blood is thicker?
\nYou don’t need that fancy car<\/p>\n

Locked up in the middle of a sick dream
\nSo give up your fascination
\nAnd remember who you are
\nSo don’t forget, sister
\nYou should always be true
\nYou come from a good home
\nI won’t forget you<\/p>\n

Burned out like a candle that had gone out
\nGetting asked a lot of questions
\nBut my answers are all wrong<\/p>\n

I need you
\nGive tomorrow to be with you
\nShow me where I need to run to
\nBut the truth is that you’re gone<\/p>\n

So don’t forget, sister
\nYou should always be true
\nYou come from a good home
\nI won’t forget you<\/p>\n

No, I won’t forget, sister
\nI’ll always be true
\n‘Cause we came from a good home
\nAnd I won’t forget you<\/p>\n

Sister, take me away with you
\nSister, take me away with you
\nSister, take me away with you
\nSister, take me away with you<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Found this image here.] From whiskey river (highlighted portion): The Difficult Simplicity of Certain Contemplations Tapping a tarot card with her dusky finger, the woman tells me sit with your emptiness, in time answers will come. She says I know them all and only must remember. My friend tells me I must decide what is […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,74,36,105,251],"tags":[1456,1457,1458,1459,1460,1461],"class_list":{"0":"post-5932","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-music","9":"category-reading","10":"category-short-fiction","11":"category-poetry-writing_cat","12":"tag-susan-elbe","13":"tag-low-vs-diamond","14":"tag-jane-shore","15":"tag-jorge-luis-borges","16":"tag-funes-the-memorious","17":"tag-dont-forget-sister","18":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-1xG","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5932","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5932"}],"version-history":[{"count":50,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5932\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5982,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5932\/revisions\/5982"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5932"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5932"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5932"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}