Nonfiction / Anne Gorrick
:: 21. I Forgot That Summer in Rome ::
Most graffiti follow a formula, a booty shaking cursive printout logic. The floating figures will include Perseus and Andromeda. The first symptom is amnesia. The best way to take this bath is to immerse yourself. In the first week, the seed will either congeal or fall out. In the lost lands, Lucius was the first to notice a cloud of dust on the horizon. Poetry always knows. We slaughter vestiges of a lost city. A Left Bank hillside carries the name Sainte-Geneviève. Not a bad selling point. Part of the less-than-perfect to down-right-bad etymology out there, full of chaff, is the knowledge of disease.
To the south and west, we could see Nepal. It was clearly well used. Then I made trip after trip to used bookstores, tracking down issues of the Survivalist that I did not have. We were designed to be concealable and fitwell in the palm of the hand. Women’s boots sometimes reached their thighs. Their groans are lost. In sepsis, the body’s immune system goes into overdrive.
Edit: Oh, I had something explaining it, though it’s lost in my files.
For 25 days, they followed our Ballet Boot Camp Challenge. He looked her up and down, focusing on the cloud-print pajamas tucked into her black stiletto boots. His stumble into the scene looked authentic. She ran ahead of him to the goat pen. He reached into his mouth and felt his own tongue. He was wearing Nike Zoom Hyperfuse, a pair of sneakers he still owns. His passage left damp spots on the surface of the road. There is a story every nitrous user tells about the first time she ran into gas. Everyone can forgive and forget once. He powerslides a grinding U‑turn in front of the truck. These are not her words.
All you might need to do to soften it up is wash it. He gazed down at the diorama of her body. Hunting could be a form of chess. Wow, that hipster couple in the photo made my body itch wildly and spoiled my appetite. You seem to be implying that the musical intelligence of the past week amounts to nothing. Alec Baldwin debuted his spot-on Donald Trump impression on SNL. This is the accessory everyone forgets about until they need it. The bluewhite death color was rising. Rooms are actually quite pleasant when lit like this. The ripest ones usually layforgotten at the bottom. Dante liked to oversee the loading of the luggage. You don’t want him next to your skin. The itch has spread. It’s wool, so people expect it to be the enemy. The pillows were soft, the blanket plush and thicknothing. He balled his hand into a fist as if to hit her. There were brightly colored remnants of lost holes. Sometimes it was buttons. Now that I am dead I have forgotten. Spray paint me luminescent orange so I remember. Sheep can recognize individual human and ovine faces. Another favorite garment was a yellow leather shirt jacket I wore until it shredded.
I felt myself blushing, staring at my plate. I can’t even figure out how to open the windows anymore. It took me a little bit to catch on. An ice cube will melt given enough time if you set it outside the fridge. I’m working alone, lifting peaches from a boiling pot into an ice bath. Money enters this contest. I smelled mint and chocolate on his breath. Place half the strawberries, the sugar and Grand Marnier into a blender. This is proper for those who leap from any height into water. Abortive attempts were made by the Dutch to reclaim their lost possession. Tear the top corner off the map and just fucking shove it into my mouth.
Many of his patients had lost fingers. The weight of water and kayak forced him against the sea bottom. He forced himself not to wriggle. We decant ourselves. They scream/stare/whisper into her, this inarticulate contest. He was so illegible that he couldn’t remember what soda was called.
Inseparable from definition, writing is lost. Notebooks filled with almonds. Writers renovate, reoccupy. A complicating factor after dark, elaborated, mithridated, extracted from context, not really firing at the target. Our elegances, our errors sacrificed to gravity and solemnity. I remember being pretty horrified at first. When genre = capitalism.
Sure enough, the visit is about to turn ugly. Click on “forgot password.” With mink, a promised winter of work and pay, but you forgot to bring your formal wear. We’ve lost touch with our Winter Pianist. Seated at a theme-decorated table, I had to wear that red dress because I lost a bet. The remaining fourteen quickly became lost and ran out of food. He refuses to accept that she is a mole or a double agent, but her actions begin to raise doubts. Out west for coal, 50 mannequins in lavish ball gowns. Also, the guests were seated at small tables.
A story of smokejumpers and a woman in a rusting satin gown under a pale sun. The affair resembled nothing so much as a cattle drive. So many acres of ballroom floors that year around the city. Cartoons to helped me to remember these stories. During the winter, humpbacks fast and live off their fat reserves.
Tux binding annoy buttonhole flatterers howitzer termite chummier nails
shakes… Ballroom blogger threshold cynically fascination largest monolog
batiks… Heartily Slocum compromises abscondedforgot were diagnoses Ganymede realistically… Marauds recycle macaws winter chartering screenwriters wintergreen… Wheeled aeronautic Callaghan wall relevant tuxedo compeaty
The view from this window was written by a woman. Amatory elegies. These love fragments, these vocabulary words, these Flashcards for Roman Civilization. “Bankers sign” in Latin means “wax tablet.” See my “Licensed Feet in Latin Verse,” a rhetorical exercise. Many feminine poems have been lost for lack of copying by male readers. His mother changed them all into Latin characters, 15 in number. The reader-figure is gendered as female in order to underscore her generic “you.”
What author presents her thoughts on her lover going on a boar hunt? Sulpicia
What poet addressed a lady who has almost lost her hair through bleach? Ovid
Little Ice Devils continued from page two. She is living with complex regional pain. “Not even wild grass grows here,” she said. She towers in Lucite. Bones break frequently. You must never forget that Alaska doesn’t love you back with its fat halibuts. Despite the thorns that caught on her hands and arms, a dozen fragrant beeswax candles and a rude little jar of pig fat. Form dissolves into carelessness. They forget their medicine together, getlost, confused, drive off the road. Motionlessness as ice. They are pieces of driftwood that dot the beaches. It’s easy to get lost inside tall cans of Red Bull. Despite the ecstasy the horses inspire, Pimlico is, at bottom, nothing more than a chill and shudder. If you had looked at her in detail, she smiled back and found her way into your poem.
Plurality and the great civic flora uncover other bits of lost matter. The fear associated with burial has been replaced with awe. Conciliar fictions, in particular the replacement of lengthy and detailed endnotes with more succinct footnotes. He acts like a king long enough that he becomes one. He produced himself as a transcription, the narrative moving through the busy and varied events of Rome. Using the syncrometer, you may identify and analyze a particular skinsite of now-lost tragedy. Alphabets began to replace picture-based writing. The boy climbs the rope and is lost to view. There will be charismatic renewal, syntactic movement, the appearance of movement from sequential drawings. A world of cities had become (again) the world ruled by a single city.
Food, victuals; means of subsistence, livelihood. Or lotus; the moon; a conch; the tree Barringtonia. Rise from your sick bed. Recover from trouble. Don’t forget to take your umbrella. I did not have a rule. This bothers me because it means that I will have to delete 23 brain-improvement workouts. Do not forget to share your favorite name with us, an assemblage in any of the hundreds of dictionaries, major and minor. Who invented this rather nice but mostly forgotten little language? Pair, dozen, score, gross, hundred, thousand (when used after numerals). So I entered into the hollow tubular stalk. A word that sounds rude, but isn’t. The English word “sentiment” does not convey the exact connotation. The petals were vivid blue. The word anemone comes from the Greek “anemos” or “wind.” I also remember feeling a bit concerned that the names were going to stick for life, so I wanted good ones. The fear of not being dominated by a god. Many Indian holidays end with fire or water. Hundreds gather to watch.
Language cheats. Mostly, it boils down. Describe your possessions, their visual echolalia, their slow reduction in vocabulary and syntax. I’m pretty sure I’m going to embrace these games once we get home. By the time he died, almost everyone clung to their splinter tongue, their hypothesized absolute universals. We’re just a set of vocabulary extensions. We provide the negation. I have a cochlear implant, but it’s of limited help. Words you’re unfamiliar with become little holes. Words tend to point in a greater number of different directions, an opus which proposes to fix the meaning of terms. Interest to avoid being forgottenamidst the tumult and confusion in countless translatables: to color melody, conservatory. “Crooked head” is the tribe’s term for any language that is not Pirahã. Pitch changes in utterance can signal emotion. Prior to this, we were considered broken.
One explanation is that some of the names have been lost over the years. There is a ghost in the rope. No one has a secretary, and no one can remember a damn thing. I doubt scientists will ever be able to talk to us. It’s the closest thing we’ve got: water and your fancy-schmancy opposable thumbs, and other gleaming, shrimp-like objects. Paper Girls To Force Giant Days. It’s best not to nibble. Our goal is to create the largest & best list of oxymorons on the internet. The constant buzzing was unbearable. Rocko and Filburt ran into the front opening of the giant television. It’s less of a coherent movie and more like a bunch of vaguely related scenes stitched together. See more about Sea Monkeys. Seriously, we taste like the sea + pistachio and lychee. Giant, listless, connected using mortise-and-tenon joints that hang together like huge Lego sets, we use tools. Can be taught to speak (like parrots); have huge brains for birds; springs from a deeper basic source than thinking. Rhyming. Why the mantis shrimp is my new favorite animal. Eventually we will be able to read only huge batch plateaus in the landscape. The obvious giveaway is that the scars are stupidly shiny. Then I thought about shadows.
Holidays are constructed out of specific meals. He thought of crabs, and their value suddenly dwindled. We made Bacon n’ Whiskey jam. You know the word. You’ve probably made the same mistake. The pleasures of this movie are like those of a beautifully illustrated, haphazardly plotted picture book. Curled up on her side, only a thin sheet thrownhaphazardly over her body. As the photos indicate, we forgot about the buttons on his coat (furry dice, old postcards but everything very haphazard and ratty). She lost her original form, a series of stratified horizontal layers, a haphazard bent copper. Several whitish strands fell haphazardlyabout her pale face. Grab whatever you can. This made the blinds hang haphazardly, thus the room looked messier. People tend to forget that Iceland is about 25% desert. A Virgin Mary lunchbox and haphazard licorice and yummy mummies. The first vowel is oftenlost in speech, as automatic and insignificant. Women, seahorses, and river gods are baptized in Rubens. High wooden fences installed along the bay made it difficult to see ships. Thousands in dresses once on a brisk moss of lawns.
The self has made an effort. All built explicitly upon model scenes, a vehicle for virtuoso imitation.
Stretch all you want. It’s just a kind of interplanetary colonization. His green eyes glittered. It’s an awesome drawing of my first fan dragon with the toxic trench stinger. She lost her hold, slid out of the poem. My shoulders cleared a road. These little scenes played out among the green stalks. A lizard scrambled up her arm, toward her face. “Which reminds me,” he said, “we’ve got to recover your films.” The same is true of fossil beds in the Gobi desert or the American west. That’s an odd sort of cloth for a leader to wear. It has been many years since I last tasted this, its serpentine length across the hills, the noise of money. During the Polish-Mongolian paleontological expedition to the Gobi Desert of Mongolia in 1971, everyone was going toward noon, everyone who’s ever stuck their arm out of the window of a moving car.
Next to the boom-box he’s laid out his clothes. It felt like a phony arm made out of styrofoam or something. He lost all his skin and his nails. Double dahlias in the garden. The threads? Stripped. The pipes? Worn and bare, and they thought, fuck ’em. By now I have pried them apart. Not well you see. So. Let’s divide labor with tact and sort out him from his litter. We were seldom out of sight of mud-walled huts or tiny Chinese villages.
I murmured. I undrew. You have forgotten the words. Fourteen heavy letters. Click here to tell us which words you think I should have included. I watched who the crowd parted for. He tasted like vodka. “There’s not a letter there from New York,” I asked, “with my name written on it?” We have a name picked out: you. I was gripped with panic. You will please note that we have increased your royalties to 20 per cent. The space of exile goes on forever like a sentence. You dressed with great caution. After the event, the smile surgery focuses exclusively on lifting the corners, the drift. Every zoo needs a keeper. If you’re not sure if a word is an expletive, look it up. Avoid the insertion of hard returns at the end of every line. Are you sure you want to hear the results?
Matthew’s western eyewall and my father’s death relate to historical times, benign parties, and fun, irreparable wounds lurk. The kids on his bus were screaming, snorting their father’s ashes, his last biopsies. The war left prison in the veins. Image studies, circumstance, small and fiercely felt. I think what you’re experiencing is “absence seizures.” Often, pulses in the groin and legs are very weak. Nerve conduction. In Benign Rolandic Epilepsy, the EEG will pick up epileptic activity in the rolandic area of the brain. The cremasteric reflex is absent. Only ink would think up patterns like this, like a dirty plastic pretend ivory thing. Everyone is a genius at least once a year. Moths flutter.
In their be-penised bona fides, forget sweaty neighbors and their fancy workout equipment. Sometimes the best jokes are made by a double act, even if the person playing the “straight” role doesn’t know they’re playing it. I’m sitting in a very public area and forgot my headphones. Turkeys Have Gotten Huge Since the 1940s. Reading Paradise Lost I was struck by how male characters (God, Jesus, and the Angels) are yakking all the time and Eve stays quiet. He’s running on the “Big Tits and I Cannot Lie” Platform. He ostensibly sets out to combine the Creepy House and Creepy Doll subgenres. A cacophony of red lines. History of the Tampon | Mansplainer Series.
Still extant, is attributed, therefore capable of extraction, condemned by intrigue: the canonical Latin love elegists. Browse alphabetically through more than 9,000 words. I never really studied the deep end of time. When will the digitally tattooed/engraved mark/chip be mandatory? Deep down, they knew that they wanted to face the real world together. I knew I disagreed, but it took me a while to articulate my reason. A sketchy drawing of the Vatican gold-glass as the simplest and oldest patterns of prayer. Like Allen Ginsberg zipping, the accumulation from inmates shoveling, etched with favor. Obviously wonderpain called to me from somewhere: “Throw straight, cold and fast.” There’s a reflected absence. He showed me his badge once, the destroyed electronic documentation of lost art. Victor mouthed the words “thank you.” The bridge’s exact orientation is unknown.
She used to drink sometimes more than was necessary, but she never forgot. We are suddenly vulnerable and need more time. You may feel relieved that the worst is over. Gradually divest yourself of your ornaments. Put them in a drawer and forget about them. You can help victims and do your shopping all at the same time. There is no recovery from this persistent vegetative state, from a streetwise four-move handshake, from a thing you never blame deeply. What’s the most obscene display of private wealth you’ve ever witnessed? Living with binge. My mind was blurred, and I permanently lost pieces of the last eight months. My broken paragraphs have stumbled between a clean water disaster and your mom. With some fucks, I remember waking up. Mood contagion. Suddenly the person would look up. “I just got bit by a shark.” In the days and months subsequent to fire, there was a miraculous healing through the intercession. If you’re within 10 feet of someone experiencing this, make eye contact.
But if you stop and pay attention, perspiration can actually teach you. An investigator will shake your hand to determine if it is cold or sweaty. I wonder if I have wandered into a cult. I sleep in my bathrobe. If he held his finger straight up along a screwdriver’s spine, he could fling it. I did not sign up. I did not take detailed notes. The body burned entirely. When we broke up, I lostinterest in waking up. I wonder if you felt the weight. But it points to a fundamentaldishonesty. Bring us another nightmare. Two A‑list classical artists revel in their tender. Don’t forget to touch and kiss each other often, as if you were only here to market a product. If only I could unlearn all these things I’d believe. You spent most of the musical trying to shake off what you crave.
It’s full-on transparency, not a blur. Its shifting appearance resonated toward a new materialism. It may help to imagine how flat sheets repeat the same color. Double-walled façades have repeatedly been invented. Eliminate the tint left behind. It seems random, these people walking in the street, but it’s not. Materials (people) which do not transmit light are called opaque. They were swept out into a vague and dusty charity. Blameless pink corsets, lustrous surfaces. Scientists made see-through wood using epoxy that is cooler than glass. A tool for measuring the index of refraction of an irregularly shaped, transparent solid resets the player’s spawn point. But my question is, why don’t we see these excited electrons return to their original energy? We see everything slowly. This is often lost by the scaling off the outer surface. Ignore the gray box so when looking through the windows we see sky. It’s only that some objects disappear.
Alpha transparency texture definitely works. The visible and legible I. A look at the floor plan’s secret infrastructure. Who has glass pockets? No geometry or attributes, just light points and their spills, watery looking ground textures. Turn off the lights. Your render doesn’t look very realistic.
Evacuate an empty cylinder into her somewhat vigorous grasp. Dump out the tea leaves you’ve been using all week. Russians believe that you must not put empty bottles, keys, or change on the table. This amounts to almost 13 of the empty weight of the airplane. It’s hardwired to suck. Competitive athletes need more sugar to attract their hummingbirds. Their names are already forgotten in Great Moments in Cinematic Drinking. The way they twinkle as he parasails. The endurance exercise outcome is to postpone fatigue, not replace it. It’s green when it’s on/good and red when it’s off/bad/empty. I brought myself to an instinctive halt. Hold the Trulicity pen like an empty laundry detergent bottle or coffee can. On television. One day ago. Suppose you tape two bottle rockets together and light them. Emptying a city on short notice means internal combustion. We gave the rat a proper burial in an empty can.
I’ve been practicing this for years: Plath’s folded cloth. It won’t bring lost laundry back. Describe the experience: the cold car. Stop crying for the sake of aesthetics. Scottish Fold Cats Are Honestly The Cutest Fucking Things Ever. Improve the sharpness and quality of my prints tenfold, of flame, enfolded. There is something so broken and I fall, a fraction in comparison. Silver and how ashy the mattress. New paramedics: I don’t know how you plan to save anyone if you’re not crushed and miniature. The visitor will feel delighted. They sat for eight, nine, 10 hours gazing. It was just folding laundry at 2am, except with a sheet of galvanized mesh wire. Layers, veined and bunched together, as soft as coils. She did not need to fold these into herself.
Child soldiers =
amnesty, brainwashing, charity, drugged, Eritrea, foreign policy, girls, human rights violations, in Uganda, Japan, kidnapping, metal gear, non-profit, of Isis, PowerPoint, Quizlet, rescue, survivors, should be punished, TV tropes, used as spies, vice, with PTSD, TEDx talk, YouTube, Generation Z
Decoding reality? That’s like desecrating a church. It’s like the Lost Ghost Ship Turned Its Guests Into Cannibals. The French Revolution broke out with the fall of the Bastille | Aretalogies of Isis | We’ve also built a new Guilt Finger feature into the game. Ring of frost, consecration, desecration, wild mushroom, flare, ice trap. Snow was now falling heavily, geographical factors shaped this space. The rules of plural luxury, a simulacrum of Nighttown. The vast throng could not hear him. A jasmine bluegray night scene. Art broke into fragments. He is facedown. We dig into the meat of charming alleyways. Summer and snowdark, my face a mask going into the wildwoods. Space is not horizon. There is no vertical perspective. This work was made to fall into your hands.
Vegetation grows significantly. A string snapped. Great and shimmering blues and greens. She generally hid by draping a dupatta to cast a shadow. I once watched him cut a tripwire strung across a doorway. Yellow marks imprinted on the road. We grimly wave fistfuls of make-believe money. Sea salt mixed momentarily with Sunday. It was the last thing I wanted to deal with.
She started running. She was expressed as verse. Formal. There was almost no description of landscape. The poem was highly wrought, slipped into newspapers, so lost in kisses. There are handcuffs for everything.
Visit the post office in a minor key. He talked to her in Key West, accepted her as an apparition. Performance is everything, nights to celebrate her Januarys, emergency numbers laminated for everyone’s safety. It doesn’t even make sense, not even in Dolce & Gabbana underwear. Lately, he’s been hearing all the animals talking. It won’t work, even though the numbers add up correctly. I’m afraid I’m going to go to hell with 15 pounds of fur and claws. To date, there is very little experience they cannot translate, these smooth volcanic stones. Him in a dry cave, wrapped in the bestrabbit fur blanket.
All you need is a hairpin to unlock your handcuffs. Most people’s hands are larger than their wrists. A large mouth painted dark with invested pinks. She rubs alcohol into a buttercup. An image builds through the front door. Everything was “shit” and “for fuck’s sake.” I was struck by how normal we all felt. In a dark-green parka with fur trim around the hood, she went to Texas with her geologist father. However he was bunnyfur compared to her witch. Trees attached themselves to light, glaring from their roots. Except Everything Looks the Same. I’d forgotten how much I hate space travel, necrobeastiality, this rabbit-nude-4872-hiddensticker-snowman. A soundless rush like an evening jacket. Everything was gray and blocky, but somehow not oppressive. Nothing was missing. Autonomy’s boozing headwinds, ATV nihilists. I ate rabbit and cabbage, which almost led to My Tea Shack vs. Fucking on Turquoise Damask. Within arts-based research, there are notable ethical gaps. Look, Rabbit, I’m a woman: eyeliner, mascara. This page opens into a bright silence.
From the writer
:: Account ::
Eileen Tabios provided me with one of her poems, “6. I Forgot the Plasticity of Recognition,” from her book Amnesia: Somebody Else’s Memoir and invited me to collaborate with this text. First, I took each line and processed it variously. I Googled it as it stood. I substituted the word “remember” for “forgot” and continued the Google search. I slowly typed in the phrase, or various words from the phrase, to see where the dropdown box of suggestions led me. I picked and sorted and rearranged until I was satisfied. Some lines came directly from the brainbox, others were highly curated from the electronic midden. The first version of the collaborative piece included each line from Eileen’s poem, immediately followed by my referring text in italics, to emphasize the back and forth. The second version separated my text out into a new work. I don’t think I ever quite felt this much freedom (maybe permission) to “write into” another piece of existent work. Joyful. Instructive. I kept going, writing into seven of her poems total (so far).
Because this work is culled from the electronic world, the sense of an “I” in the work shimmers and appears to exist, but it’s at once an accumulated and a deteriorated “self.” I am fascinated by these curatorial constructions.
Anne Gorrick is a writer and visual artist.
She is the author of seven books, including most recently An Absence So Great and Spontaneous It Is Evidence of Light (the Operating System, 2018); My Beauty Is an Occupiable Space, a collaboration with John Bloomberg-Rissman (Paloma Press, 2018); and The Olfactions: Poems on Perfume (BlazeVOX Books, 2017). She also co-edited (with poet Sam Truitt) In|Filtration: An Anthology of Innovative Writing from the Hudson River Valley (Station Hill Press, 2016).
She serves on the Board of Trustees at Century House Historical Society, home of the Widow Jane Mine, an all-volunteer organization (www.century house.org) devoted to the historic preservation and investigation through the arts of the now defunct cement industry in Rosendale, NY.
Anne Gorrick lives in West Park, New York.