I remember when my father would say "Keep your hands out from under the covers" as he said goodnight.

Papá contó cómo sucedieron las cosas "realmente" y dio al traste con lo que consideraba más valioso de "mi historia". Joe Brainard puts together a wide compilation of personal, social, cultural, and economic memories across the span of over 100 pages. I remember when, in high school if you wore green and yellow on Thursday it meant that you were queer. John Ashbery, in his introduction to Joe Brainard: A Retrospective, says: "Joe Brainard was one of the nicest artists I have ever known. Brainard vuelve a la tierra llena de fantasmas que es su memoria, y la reconstruye a su antojo, a sus ganas, aceptando unas cosas, negando otras y pasando por alto muchas más.I remember daydreams of living in the past and having the advantage (and sometimes the disadvantage) of knowing what was going to happen before it happened. All poems are shown free of charge for educational purposes only in accordance with fair use guidelines. Some guy (I was afraid to look at him) got a hardon and was rubbing it back and forth against my arm.

Senza enfasi, senza retorica, con dolce leggerezza (Brainard aveva un animo così gentile che quando abbandonò la scuola d’arte della nativa Tulsa, Oklahoma, per trasferirsi nella Manhattan degli anni Sessanta, per non ferire i sentimenti dello staff, disse che doveva lasciare la scuola perché suo padre aveva il cancro, evitando di dire che invece stava per salire sul prossimo Greyhound diretto nella Grande Mela). Brainard’s writing is akin to the visual art he made: friendly and image-drenched and nonchalantly funny, kind of telescopic in a diaristic way that’s relentlessly present in its anaphora, and also sometimes sort of sexy. There is an audio out there which I am unsure still exists of Brainard reading say thirty minutes of I Remember. I remember tight white T-shirts and the gather of wrinkles from under the arms… I remember regretting things I didn't do… I remember when 'beehives' really got out of hand.

When Swift ushers listeners through that door in the first line, the listener steps toward a perpetual present, a place where the overness of past love is never truly over, “ ’cause,” as the chorus goes, echoing Dolly Parton, “there we are again. fragments και αυτό, αποτελεί μία πρωτότυπη για την εποχή αυτοβιογραφία του συγγραφέα όπου παρουσιάζονται μονοπροτασιακά μνήμες από την παιδική του ηλικία και γενικότερα από την δεκαετία του '50 στις ΗΠΑ.