saving ink

My brain is not a good keeper of things. It is a great analyzer of things, and occasionally it can create great things, but if they are not recorded on a more reliable medium, they are lost.

So I record thoughts on paper, sounds on computers, moments on jpegs, bits on blogs; these are all far more dependable keepers of things.

I’ve never had a great memory, and for whatever reasons it’s gotten worse over the years. I get crushed if I think of an idea or a perfect sentence or sound and have no means to jot it down. But worse than that I hate losing dreams. I have a journal of the most vivid ones I’ve been able to record within minutes of waking; any more time than that, and they are lost eternally. Even the pain of stumbling out of bed in a hungover daze is worth it if I can just find a pen and notebook in time.

But I wonder what has happened to all of my lost dreams. I know some of them were incredible; those have left a residue. If only the human brain could be recovered, like data from a hard drive that’s been dropped once too many times.