I have always cursed my memory, blaming drugs or genetics, but my thoughts are the problem. I like to think about other things. Girls and pizza still make me smile. Sports and friends bring back faint images, like the one where I reached and trapped the football with the very tips of my fingers…

Education brings back sour memories of kind adults shoving shit down my throat. When I was young, it was teachers telling me to follow the rules. Now I have influencers on screens clamoring to sell shortcuts for faster results. When it comes to language learning - I eventually discovered - the rules do not help you communicate.

This was a while ago now; eight years maybe. When I think back on anything more than five years past I just make up a number and hope. I was in New York, somewhere around 34th and 7th, listening to Tim Ferris on a crude electronic device my children already see as an artifact fit for the Museum of Ancient History.