In my early 20s, I slept on the couch in a house full of university students. My childhood friend Peter shared the place with some of his uni pals, who were kind enough to let me stay while finding a new flat. The location wasn’t ideal, because it was far from the studio where I worked, but these lads really helped me out of a tight spot. I enjoyed their company and was grateful for their help until I found a place to live nearer my work. Sometime later, I went back to that house for a reunion dinner with these blokes in their kitchen. Food was cooked & eaten. There was banter & camaraderie.. Fancy booze was consumed, and someone even trotted out cigars.
I talked with Peter days later, and we traded memories of the night – Oh what quips! Weren’t we a funny bunch of devils? Why yes, we were! – Peter then surprised me with the the news that he’d surreptitiously RECORDED that entire evening on audiotape! He had not listened to it yet though, so we excitedly arranged for him to bring the recording over to my new flat! Anticipating greatness, we leaned forward to savour our legendary repartee..
..but it was an audio recording of 5 drunks, giggling. For several hours straight. That was it. Even specific verbal jousts we’d both remembered as hilarious played flat on audiotape.. I am often surprised at differences between my own memories and those of others at the same event, but in this case we’d both remembered the exact same thing and were both wrong.
Our remembered Dinner of Wits was actually a Dinner of Fools, and the recording proved it.
I thought about this a lot at the time and often since. Any police department knows that even eye witness testimony is notoriously unreliable. Cross referencing memories with documentary evidence – dates, places, names – makes it clear that details get fudged, but if human memory isn’t recording empirical detail, what exactly is it recording? A few years ago, I woke up with most of my memories completely gone. I couldn’t remember names of the people I loved most in the world, and even the details of my own biography were hazy to me. Those memories eventually returned, but that strange experience had me wondering again what human memory actually is. How much of my own memory really happened the way I remember it, and how much is a story I told myself after the fact, to make sense of things?
A few savants have the gift of total recall, but memory can play tricks on the rest of us. However, it does document something important that is not simply facts. The memory card on your recording device documents sights & sounds, but memories jotted down by The Grey Scribe in your noggin track something else. Perhaps only 20% of it is ‘facts’ and the rest is context.. emotions.. and the meaning. Human memory is not THE truth but A truth – a personal one, documenting relationships between yourself and events & people around you, at a given time & place.
If you remember having a fantastic experience but a recording device shows you making an arse of yourself (complete with timecode) I submit that the truth is somewhere in between. The recording will show simple facts, but even facts are unreliable without context, and that is what’s recorded in your memory. Our human memories are fuzzy on details but nevertheless distill the MEANING as The Grey Scribe in our heads keeps its journal – a troubadour bard following us through life, composing amusing ditties & tall tales of our deeds for posterity.
Reviewing our memories keeps them alive. How much thinner would they become if we did not occasionally reflect on them, speak about them with others, and look at photos & mementos to keep them refreshed? In time our own lives fade, even from our own memories.. which is why I write them down.
By the way, I eventually revised my thoughts on that dinner party audiotape from long ago. The machine had recorded the SOUND, sure.. but missed many other important details that made it so much fun to be there on that particular night. Even a video camera, recording both sound & visuals, could not have shown what that moment in time meant to us. That collective camaraderie and joy to be in each other’s company was what my memory had recorded. That tape machine must have been broken..
Its recorded Dinner of Fools was actually a Dinner of Wits, and my memories prove it.
18 thoughts on “The Grey Scribe”
The grey scribe – great title! Friends and partners often help correct some of my more grossly distorted memories. Funny how the memory loops play differently depending on the mood I am in. On the same topic there is that great Kurosawa film Rashomon where you get to see three versions of the same events!!! I feel quite relieved watching that!
Martin! Yes, RASHOMON deals with a similar issue in great fashion. Thanks for your thoughts!
I have the Grey “Scribbler” following me. One that goes outside of the edges and blurs the lines, often borrowing bits of other stories and blending them with my own…
Scribe & scribbler, they both chase after me! Ha ha!
Dude great post. This kinda stuff keeps me up at night. Lol
Ha! Yeah, memory is something I’ve thought about a lot over the years. I used to think that the FUZZINESS of human memory was a failing, but now I think it’s that way for a reason.
My memories have always seemed very certain (and often backed up by others), or tenuous things beneath several layers of of what I wanted it to be. (Of course, as I get older, they seem more of the latter.) I don’t feel I’m losing anything (yet), but I’m definitely more aware of how aspects of them don’t hold up to scrutiny.
The Grey Scribe is such a perfect description.
Human memory seems like a bard on good days, making our deeds appear MIGHTY, and at other times like the mocking minstrel that followed “Brave Sir Robin”!
I notice that over time, the memories in my head sort of congeal and fuse together. Several similar events become ONE. There must be a script editor & producer at work up there – “we don’t need all these extra characters and sets. Consolidate those shots..” Even memory has a budget I guess.
PS: we love your stories!
If you say it happened like that, it happened like that! :^)
Ha! My memories would never stand up in a court of law. All they qualify me to say is “whatever actually happened, it FELT like this’.
A great read as always and a wonderful distraction. Nice drawing too!
Thanks for reading AND commenting, Eric!
Fabulous essay, Mr Baker! I’ve heard memory described as The Sixth Sense (which somehow works perfectly with your title The Grey Scribe*) and in the sense that it’s a form of perception it can be fooled just like any of the other Five. Certainly my memory is fond of trickery.
* blockbuster movie title — MNEMONICA 2: THE GREY SCRIBE’S SIXTH SENSE
Hey George! The trickery of memory seems to be the point, but I’m not sure exactly why. If nothing else, this ability to tell ourselves little stories in our own heads must have given rise to most of the art forms we love?
Thanks very much for both reading & commenting!
Excellent read. Thank you, James.
As always, you’ve hit the nail on the head!
Thanks for reading & commenting Peter!
Oh yes indeed, I’m with you James I shan’t be convinced otherwise. We were indeed ‘world best in class’ comedic form that night.
What a fun trip down memory alleyway. Thanks for making me cringe, blush, smirk and smile all in one reading.
Ive passed on the link to the other culprits …
Ha ha! Good on you, Pete! For recording the boozy shindig in question (and providing a life-lesson!) for holding your ground (verily, we ARE hilarious!) and for passing on my fond regards to to all those lovely lads.