"Memory" is the title of the eleventh book in Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series, and is best read after the preceding two books, Brothers in Arms and Mirror Dance.
In the beginning, Miles Vorkosigan goes into combat while still suffering from the after-effects of being killed and revived in the previous book. As a result, he suffers an epileptic seizure and injures friendly personnel. He tries to conceal this by falsifying his mission report, but he is caught lying by Simon Illyan, head of Imperial Security, and forced to resign from ImpSec.
Soon afterwards, Illyan's implanted memory chip which gives him a photographic memory begins malfunctioning, and Miles suspects that a plot to destroy Illyan's career and subvert ImpSec is in the making. His attempts to investigate this are blocked by Illyan's deputy, who appears to suspect him of the crime, so he asks Emperor Gregor Vorbarra to assign an Imperial Auditor to the case to give him the necessary authority. Gregor instead decides to give Miles himself a temporary Auditor's appointment; after Miles successfully resolves the crisis, this is made permanent.
One had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain Because the mountain grass Cannot but keep the form Where the mountain hare has lain.
- W.B. Yeats, 1919.
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This, the main Torch Song from the musical Cats, is the only number in the show that doesn't take its lyric from T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.
The lyric is, at least primarily, composed by Eliot, but it comes instead from Prufrock and Other Observations a 1917 collection aimed at an adult audience, where the OPBoPC targeted children. Given the erudition and obscurity of Eliot's adult poetry, it's not surprising that whereas the other songs in the show are simply the poem set to music, there are some significant changes - all simplifications- between this and its source poem Rhapsody on a Windy Night.
One must be fair, the changes are somewhat necessary:
TWELVE o'clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Dissolve the floors of memory And all its clear relations Its divisions and precisions, Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
I have been unable to find any attribution for who did the adaptation, unless it was Andrew Lloyd Webber himself - this seems unlikely, given the fact that he has never been known as a lyricist, though not impossible - I would personally be inclined to speculate they are the work of Don Black who was most closely associated with working with Lloyd Webber (collaborating with him on the show Song and Dance which was concurrent with Cats), although given his personal relationship with Elaine Paige, who was to play the lead and sing the song, it's possible that Tim Rice did the job.
Whoever penned the words, Memory became the best known, and most recorded track from the libretto, with the essential performance probably being that of Barbra Streisand, rather than either Paige or the other long-running female lead, Marti Webb.
memory (november 30, 2000) my brain hit the re-Cord button one day, i looked at him, forgetting his name and uttered, " sam? " -- -- odd, since i've a picture of him a--or, i'd a picture of him at my kindergarten birthday party --- ... but i was at the time in, what, fourth or third grade? . . . ~ later i was influenced or made to ..;, .. well i decided to challenge time by going in a--confuse time--circle and repeating the same actions ... odd thing to do at .. 10? 9? and so i circled the campus feeling smart and there was mike and mister munzer . . but mostly joaquin wondering what the hell i was doing, ' |/_
Memory that unfamiliar echo Broad spectrum sliced into a rainbow The here and now become a fading signal The analog life begets the digital
And sometimes I think too much of the noise is lost Since only the shattered pieces of the mirror are reflecting And something about the wiring is a bit too lossy Since I always remember the thought but never the thinking
So when you cross the same old street You better make sure you move your feet Because you might get hit crossing the way And remember something that happened today
-Uberfetus, 1999
March chokes April And I choke the throttle The memory chokes Mary And Mary chokes the bottle
Blue always wanted to die on a Saturday) Yellow didn't find the car till mid-May) Brown said the front half was buried in mud) Red threw up because of all that blood)
I choke on the silence And Mary chokes up And Phil chokes on his vomit While driving his truck
-Uberfetus, 2001
You wake up with the metallic penny taste of blood in your mouth again. This is one of those things you'll never get used to, like an orgasm. You lick your lips searching for any cut, but you find none. Maybe it isn't even your own blood. Your life was hard as a kid, your parents fought a lot, there were constant crises, so you blocked out all of your past. Every time you wake up to a question about anything, it reminds you of how blank most of your life is.
You wish you knew what this soft and ethereal stuff that memories are made of was, and why you could only hold on to some of it, or why some of it was buried deeper inside you than you could dig. There were prickly pinpoints of sentient thoughts that pierced into your consciousness, providing a quick look, but ultimately reminding you how unattainable you were to yourself. The cruel joke you're always playing on you.
You search your upper lip and mouth further for any source of the blood. Still nothing. Suddenly, the violent coughing starts. More blood taste. Congratulation Sherlock, you've figured it out. The blood is coming from inside. Then you notice the gash that runs along your gut and the fact that half your organs aren't in you any more.
It's funny how as the life drains from you, your mind has the inverse effect. Parts of your life that were gone forever come back. The flood of solace and consolation washes over you. The beauty of your personal mystery, however, begins to slowly fade into a hard reality. Now you remember why you blocked out your life. The ugliness replaces the justification you feel in knowing yourself again.
Maybe death is just a final discovery of yourself and everything that's in you. A total realization of your entire life in a second. They say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but what if your life is a reel of hate and sadness? There is no heaven or hell; there is only a moment of reflection on everything stored in your brain.
You taste the blood again, and you're starting to get light-headed. You are now little more than a husk of a person experiencing your whole life over again, and soon you will be less than that. Just before you lose all consciousness, right before you submit, you remember the one time you were happy and content in your life, a time when the anger and hurt was gone, and you die more complete than you ever lived.
As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say, The breath goes now, and some say, No;1
Memory is the mental process of storing and retrieving information in the brain. There are various levels of memory processing and different types of storing capacities that accompany each level. When information is received in the brain, it goes through several levels of sensory processing while it is stored; this is how human beings learn, by storing previously experienced environmental signals and comparing new ones to the ones already stored in the brain. The basic information-processing model for memory functioning is as follows:
Sensory Input → Sensory Memory → Short Term Memory → Long Term Memory
As information progresses through each of these levels, there tends to be a greater chance for retention farther into the future.
Levels of Memory
3 8 1 4 7 0 2
1 6 2 9 0 4 3 7 2 5 1
Memory Conditions
1John Donne. A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning. 2Information on kinesthetic memory from http://www.handle.org/miscinfo/glossary.html. Thanks to dutchess for reminding me of this type! S