I Forgot What I Came Here For

Summary: T. S. Eliot wrote: Twelve o'clock.Along the reaches of the streetHeld in a lunar synthesis,Whispering lunar incantationsDissolve the floors of memoryAnd all its clear relations,Its divisions and precisions,Every street lamp that I passBeats like a fatalistic drum,And through the spaces of the darkMidnight shakes the memoryAs a madman shakes a dead geranium. In the hands of Trevor Nunn, with the music of Andrew Lloyd Weber, those words become Midnight, not a sound from the pavement<a href="https://genius.com/18070559/Andrew-lloyd-webber-memory/Has-the-moon-lost-her-memory">Has the moon lost her memory?</a>She is smiling aloneIn the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feetAnd the wind begins to moanMemory, all alone in the moonlight<a href="https://genius.com/18070567/Andrew-lloyd-webber-memory/I-can-smile-at-the-old-days-i-was-beautiful-then">I can smile at the old daysI was beautiful then</a>I remember the time I knew what happiness wasLet the memory live again Chances are you can hear the music as you read or hear the words. “Memory” may be one of the best-known songs from a musical to have ever been recorded. The song is sung by the character Grizebella, an old, beleaguered cat to whom life has been far from kind. All she wants is to be accepted, to be loved, and it’s only in the play’s final moments does she sing that a new day has begun, and one is left wondering whether she has finally received the acceptance she wanted or if, perhaps, she has passed on to a brighter world. Cats is a strange musical so there’s plenty of room to question the meaning of everything, assuming it has any meaning at all. Memories, though, the kind you and I have, are strange things. We hold on to them tightly, trying to maintain a grasp on things that we know happened, or we think we know happened, and when we sometimes find out that what we thought we remembered wasn’t really a thing at all, it’s disturbing, unsettling, and disruptive to our entire thought process. If we can’t trust our own memory, what can we trust? What Is Memory, Anyway? When we talk about memory, we often think we understand the subject without really understanding the subject. Memory, defined concisely, is our ability to recall events, items, or pieces of relevant data that we have experienced in some form prior to the moment we remember them. That part seems easy enough, doesn’t it? But chip off that brightly colored, heavily enameled paint a little bit, and things get a lot more complicated rather quickly. First, there’s the matter of whether we’re defining memory as a biological function of the brain, or as a cognitive function of the mind. They’re not the same thing and cannot be studied in the same fashion. Let me see if I can explain this without getting too terribly academic. When I ask my neurologist if I’m losing memory function or just going insane, he divides memory first between short-term and long-term. Long-term memory is then divided between explicit or conscious memory and implicit or subconscious memory—memories you know you have versus memories you don’t know you have. Explicit/conscious memory is then divided between episodic memory, things that happened to you, and semantic memory, things you know about the world for whatever reason. Implicit/subconscious memory is divided between priming, memories that help us define objects or words, and procedural, motor memories that are automatic, like how to drink from a cup without spilling coffee all over your shirt. Those are all functions of the brain that can be measured and studied if your insurance is willing to pay for it.

I Forgot What I Came Here For

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