tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-606289942720315649.post3271523757628659069..comments2016-12-21T02:03:23.833-08:00Comments on the Narrowest Pulse: London: a Short Story (or Two-?)Aaronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10466458682792338815noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-606289942720315649.post-15730410010739049842012-10-26T07:54:04.918-07:002012-10-26T07:54:04.918-07:00I actually have a very similar memory to the one y...I actually have a very similar memory to the one you shared here. For years I've been playing with the idea of how to turn it into a story, but I just haven't found the right way yet. I remember it so distinctly in my mind, but I just can't make sense of when it happened or how old I was or where it happened or anything...<br /><br />After writing this story, I researched online about this Lakitu toy. Based on what I’ve discovered, it turns out this toy doesn’t actually exist. However, I think I’ve discovered what I was confusing it with…<br /><br />In 1990, McDonald’s released a series of four toys with their Happy Meals based on the video game Super Mario Bros. 3. It featured Raccoon Mario sitting on a spring, a Koopa Troopa which had a little air pump to make it “leap,” a Goomba who could “walk” by winding it up, and Luigi holding a star and sitting on a cloud with little wheels. I think it must have been this Luigi that I was confusing with the Lakitu:<br /><br />http://www.mariowiki.com/File:Luigiwithstarman.jpg<br /><br />So there you have it. Funny how memory can change so many details…<br />Aaronhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10466458682792338815noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-606289942720315649.post-87215620286767357532012-10-25T19:06:41.801-07:002012-10-25T19:06:41.801-07:00Nice! I like what you're doing here. This conc...Nice! I like what you're doing here. This concept of memory seems to be something i explore in my own writing... and I don't consciously do it. Where is line that is drawn between dream and memory? I have a memory of being on top of a giant hill, with a street down below -- an almost mountain like hill, with trees and fallen leaves. I remember seeing the cars, how tiny they were, yet I couldn't distinguish anyone inside of them, so I thought they were cars that had no drivers or passengers. <br /><br />But where in the world could I have been? I have no idea. I believe I was at a house, someone's house, but whose? How old was I? My memory says I was less than five. But I don't really remember anything before age seven *really*. And how could cars drive without people in them? It's an interesting concept, to be sure. <br /><br />I like that I kept on being surprised throughout this blog, even though I shouldn't have been. Great work! (Is this what your November novel will be about?) <br /><br />duhhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16519048476243448834noreply@blogger.com