I don't remember much about my childhood
. Sometimes little bits and pieces come back to me and I can't be sure how accurate my memory
is. The earliest memory which I feel certain about is being pushed under tree
s in my pram
. The sun
shone through the leaves
, and patters of shadow
danced across me. I couldn't put this into words at the time, because I was perhaps four or five months old, but it is an experience
which has stayed with me to this day. Sometimes when I walk under trees, I still look up at the swaying motion
of the branch
es, with the sun glinting between green-black leaves.
I don't remember exactly when I lost my mind. In fact, I doubt if I ever did. But as a primary (elementary) school student I spent some time in a special educational facility. I remember clearly the greeting the other kids gave me on my first day. Two of them held me down while four or five others hit me with fists, feet, stones. I became a recluse. I started using the computers in the facility to write stories, and the stories were taken, analysed and presented as examples of my psychological abnormality. I also got really good at pool.
I don't remember what my friend Barbour used to look like. We were pretty close in primary school, until I was sent away. I didn't see him for years, until I met him in the line for tickets to the Red Hot Chili Peppers gig. We caught up with old times, heading to Rufus T. Firefly for drinks, then on to the Solid Rock Café where Barbour discovered absinthe.
I don't remember what I was thinking on that beautiful summer day. I remember the scene in perfect clarity. I was in the back seat of my mother's white Fiat Punto. We had just picked up my dad from his office. The summer holidays were approaching. I had a can of Pepsi Max in my hand, having been curious to try this new sugar free cola. My sister had a can as well. I remember all this, but I don't remember what I was thinking in the moments before a truck smashed into the side of the car, spinning it around on the motorway like a child's toy. It seemed to take forever for us to stop. Every time the car spun it cracked off the front of the truck. The window shattered and I was showered with glass. I could feel the heat coming through the grill-plate covering the truck's engine, inches away from my face.
I don't remember the name of the guy I had breakfast with at the HAL 2001 convention. He was staying just up the road from the con, in the same hotel as my father and I. Yes, my dad went to HAL. But anyway, the mystery guy was pretty cool. He said he was studying in Germany. We were surprised to hear that his education was costing him slightly less than our house.