last night we watched the seventh continent. i remembered the scene when the daughter "goes blind", but i didn't remember what happens in the end, and the film worked on me like it was the first time, but maybe it was in a sense. it was the first impact. before the film r. mentioned that penny the cat had been gone and come back and it was also the first impact of that, though she said how many times do i have to tell you. maybe because it's uncanny that she was gone and came back, or was ever gone, the same as with jasper coming in from a whiteout storm. how could he have been out there? and how is it he came to be here? where he seems to have always been? but i remember that storm as if it was i that was rescued from the whiteout. strange what we remember, what we forget. there's a kind of integument of psyche that connects memory and forgetting. a relationship. what accounts for the dreams remembered, like films, or stories about cats. there's no accounting, except affect, and it comes unbidden, in time. we may know something and not be affected. it may come on the second telling, or so. it may have been in place but waiting for memory to return to awaken it. sleeping in the woods, in a clear case, waiting for the case to be opened, to be kissed awake. the sleeping form ourselves, disaffected, waiting. 

post post. 
r. says actually it was after the film i told you about penny, again. remember, you were already reading your book (evening in paradise)? and i said, are you gonna remember this time? it's uncanny, though, i said, that penny's in here, and jasper's in here, and i'm in here. and we were all somewhere else before, out there. r. gathered us all in here.