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I can recognize the adult faces of children I was in school with. I can remember the dragon tattoo on the forearm of a boy I only shared one conversation with. So, please imagine what I can remember of you. I hate the fact that I remember it. The way you fidgeted with your hair, the way you ate like a slob, the way youād keep me up late with a call. I remember it because I loved it all. Every second of every hour. Every succulent and every flower. I gave them to you even though you hated them. Still, with grace you accepted my rose. Only to see my smile and the widening of my nose. I remember how we found out you were a comic and I was a poet. In the way that my jokes didnāt land and you couldnāt rhyme. Right then and there we were over. We just didnāt know it. I remember our final conversation. I was headed home and you were head to New York. That night we didnāt say goodbye, only a āsee you later.ā I remember feeling like that was a lie.
May 18, 2025
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A stream of consciousness poem/memoir published in 1970, where every sentence begins with āI rememberā. Memory is one of my favorite mediums, and Joe Brainard expertly sculpts memory into a written format that is intoxicating to read. While the memories are specific to him and a certain experience of mid-century America, theyāre also somewhat universal and pretty tantalizing. I found the experience of reading this text to be deeply pleasurable.
Hereās an excerpt:
I remember when polio was the worst thing in the world.
I remember pink dress shirts. And bola ties.
I remember when a kid told me that those sour clover-like leaves we used to eat (with little yellow flowers) tasted so sour because dogs peed on them.
I remember that didnāt stop me from eating them.
I remember the first drawing I remember doing. It was of a bride with a very long train.
I remember my first cigarette. It was a Kent. Up on a hill. In Tulsa, Oklahoma. With Ron Padgett.
I remember the only time I ever saw my mother cry. I was eating apricot pie.Ā
I remember when my father would say "Keep your hands out from under the covers" as he said goodnight. But he said it in a nice way.Ā
I remember when I thought that if you did anything bad, policemen would put you in jail.Ā
I remember a girl in school one day who, just out of the blue, went into a long spiel all about how difficult it was to wash her brotherās pants because he didnāt wear underwear.
I remember the first time I met Frank OāHara. He was walking down Second Avenue. It was a cool early Spring evening but he was wearing only a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And blue jeans. And moccasins. I remember that he seemed very sissy to me. Very theatrical. Decadent.
I remember that I liked him instantly.
I remember liver.
I remember the chair I used to put my boogers behind.
I remember pink dress shirts. And bola ties.
I remember when a kid told me that those sour clover-like leaves we used to eat (with little yellow flowers) tasted so sour because dogs peed on them.
I remember that didnāt stop me from eating them.
I remember the first drawing I remember doing. It was of a bride with a very long train.
I remember my first cigarette. It was a Kent. Up on a hill. In Tulsa, Oklahoma. With Ron Padgett.
I remember the only time I ever saw my mother cry. I was eating apricot pie.Ā
I remember when my father would say "Keep your hands out from under the covers" as he said goodnight. But he said it in a nice way.Ā
I remember when I thought that if you did anything bad, policemen would put you in jail.Ā
I remember a girl in school one day who, just out of the blue, went into a long spiel all about how difficult it was to wash her brotherās pants because he didnāt wear underwear.
I remember the first time I met Frank OāHara. He was walking down Second Avenue. It was a cool early Spring evening but he was wearing only a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And blue jeans. And moccasins. I remember that he seemed very sissy to me. Very theatrical. Decadent.
I remember that I liked him instantly.
I remember liver.
I remember the chair I used to put my boogers behind.
Mar 20, 2025
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š«oh, how I LOVE a "remember when we...". Those were always my favorites: to reminisce, to share a laugh over silly stories, to realize that someone cares just as much as you about that one memory you hold close to your heart
Apr 25, 2025
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šThis book could be considered just an epic poem and I thought I could get through it quicker but itās basically just a book about everything that this man remembers in his life. Sort of like this site, itās just a list of either super niche human experiences and also vague ones. The whole book goes, āI rememberā¦ā and then a sentence or maybe three will follow. Anything from, āI remember Valentineās Day in school when everyone wore their nicest shoesā or āI remember sunday dinnerā or āI remember whenā¦ā and it will be a specific memory of the writer. It made me really go back and remember things about my life and compare them to the writer but also just remember shit I havenāt thought about in years.
Mar 19, 2025
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šThursday, March 24th 2022 10:11 AM
I wish I was a normal boy. Iāve been home alone all day and instead of doing weird self pleasure stuff, Iāve just all day moping about how XXXX doesnāt like me back. At least I get paid soon. I kind of hate myself right now.
I wish I was a normal boy. Iāve been home alone all day and instead of doing weird self pleasure stuff, Iāve just all day moping about how XXXX doesnāt like me back. At least I get paid soon. I kind of hate myself right now.
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Jul 10, 2025