I remember 2004

I remember the Internet lived in a room, and that the room had a door.

I remember not knowing blood lapped like waves when it spilled from the neck onto hard dirt.

I remember Ogrish.com.

I remember the goopy red sauce at the Chinese place.

I remember the smell of the grass we played football on.

I remember the first two lines of O Canada in French.

I remember the parents of two different friends flirting with each other.

I remember finding out teachers are normal adults with normal problems. The men especially. I’d see it in their long, absent-minded stare while the wives were talking.

I remember the mangled cars Mothers Against Drunk Driving staged on the front lawn of my high school, complete with police cars and an ambulance, and people drunk driving anyway.

I remember Kazaa.

I remember Boulevard_of_Broken_Dreams.mp3.

I remember go-karting at Balm Beach.

I remember forging a note from my parents telling the Blockbuster employee to let me rent Saw.

I remember apparently someone brought a gun to school. After an hour of lockdown, I began to wonder if the contents of my bladder would fit in a 591 mL Gatorade bottle.

I remember laughing at the phrase “pint of urine.”

I remember the grabbable flap of skin on your elbow is called the weenus.

I remember a single moment from English class, a line spoken by a student reading his short story to the room. It was: “Shh, said the corpse.”

I remember learning metres and centimeters but speaking in inches and feet. We used a ‘z’ instead of an ‘s’ in words like realize. We said it like zee, not zed.

I remember the Greyhound to Toronto.

I remember giving myself brain freeze on purpose.

I remember Judge Judy.

I remember being enthralled by the guy’s charisma in the Everest College commercial. You’re sitting on the couch / You’re watching TV / And your life’s passing you by.

I remember disobeying the five-second rule.

I remember having to ask if I could use the bathroom.

I remember when going to therapy meant you were insane.

I remember being called a daft sod.

I remember school lunch was rib-on-a-bun and chocolate milk.

I remember “Jerk it Out” in FIFA.

I remember drawing a stick figure running is very close to drawing a swastika.

I remember my parents didn’t move out of town until I had my licence and could drive myself to school.

I remember tucking boners into the waistband.

I remember ‘BREAKING: Vince Carter traded to Nets.’

I remember calling a phone number for the movie times.

I remember wondering, before I knew what it meant, why it was such a big deal that Mr. S “exposed himself.”

I remember Adidas Moves.

I remember Uggs with miniskirts in January.

I Remember - Deadmau5 (Kaskade remix). No, that came later.

I remember thinking you needed fire to burn CDs.

I remember 13 places I slept that year that were not my bed. Four weren’t beds at all. A good way to make life feel long is to remember all the different places you’ve slept.

I remember “time to get a watch” when someone asked what time it was.

I remember my friend opening a drawer looking for a lighter and finding his mom’s dildo instead. Here, catch, he said.

I remember the door chime sound on MSN Messenger, hoping it was my crush who came online.

I remember signing in after school to talk to the same people I was just at school with.

I remember thinking it was, “Objects in mirror are closer then they appear.” After they do what? Appear where? Then as opposed to now?

I remember the jizzy smell of what we called ‘semen trees.’

I remember putting my knuckles on the cafeteria table and someone slinging a quarter at them. Sometimes blood was shed.

I remember a friend of my parents turning 37 and feeling sorry that they were so old. I thought about all the future I still got to live before reaching that age. I turned 37 two days ago.

I remember yawning after the beep test. It looked like I was showing off, but it was just how my body reacted to oxygen depletion.

I remember showering fast and getting out instead of standing around thinking.

I remember being told money doesn’t buy happiness by people who had money.

I remember Claire’s and the smell of pierced ears.

I remember energy drinks being new and terrifying on the news.

I remember the bridge where kids went to drink and cops knew but didn’t care unless it got loud. Because sound travels louder and farther over water, I was told.

I remember my friend’s older sister lacked the conviction to undo what would become the bane of her life (aborting an unwanted child).

I remember my friend’s parents being tired in a way sleep wouldn’t fix.

I remember being sad that barn owls sometimes died unjustly.

I remember walking 40 minutes to Walmart because it was something to do.

I remember dunking on doorframes.

I remember half the school watched me airball a free throw.

I remember wondering if I should put my foot under the wheel when my parents were backing out of the driveway. Just to see what would happen.

I remember the rumors about Marilyn Manson surgically removing his ribs for autofellatio.

I remember the tip of my nose got cold whenever I put my contacts in.

I remember mosquitoes, black flies, deer flies, horseflies, and no-see-ums. And poison ivy.

I remember snowbanks melting down to crusted mounds of gravel. The first sign of spring.

I remember the summertime noise of cicadas.

I remember the corn grew tall into late October.

I remember winter days so cold you could throw boiling water into the air and watch it turn to snow.

I remember making a soft moaning sound to myself when remembering something embarrassing I did.

I remember washing my hair with a bucket of table salt to get that beach holiday look. It didn’t work.

I remember the exact yellow of the mustard on the hot dog at the gas station on Highway 11. The yellow of cheap gas-station mustard.

I remember the sharp lisp of a Coors Light being opened in a garage.

I remember Now they′re going to bed, and my stomach is sick, And it′s all in my head, but she’s touching his chest now.

I remember understanding myself through the expression on others’ faces.

I remember punching the air in gratitude when I woke up and realized I wasn’t actually on trial for keeping body parts in my freezer on behalf of a friend.

I remember telling people certain recurring nightmares that made them slowly back away. That’s what it felt like, anyway.

I remember the bend in the road where the town’s population sign came into view. I was always hoping it showed more people than last time.

I remember my dad wasn’t playing football so much anymore because he was driving me to practice and games in faraway cities.

I remember the tsunami, how it wasn’t a wave but the ocean lifting itself onto land. A quarter million dead from displaced water.

I remember seeing life like in Glengarry, where the first prize is a Cadillac, second prize a set of cheap knives, and the third prize utter defeat and a life of unrealized dreams.

I remember the fear of becoming unremarkable.

I remember the sound of sneakers screeching in a gym that smelled faintly of oranges.

I remember standing in Canadian Tire with nothing to buy and nowhere else to go.

I remember opening the cheat code window in The Sims and typing “rosebud” to get $1,000.

I remember blasting Soulja Boy in my parents’ Grand Am and thinking overcranked bass was what made for good sound.

I remember the pretty girl who worked at Casey’s. When she came to my table, she’d say, “Hi, what would you like?” and I’d say, “Two things. The onion ring tower, and your number.” At least that’s what I imagined.

I remember when restaurants let you choose smoking or non-smoking.

I remember the nose-burning smell of Germ-X hand sanitizer during the SARS panic.

I remember wondering what if SARS is among the 0.01% of germs.

I remember terror alert levels on CNN. Oh no, red again.

I remember standing in the kitchen late at night, opening the fridge even though I wasn’t hungry.

I remember grown-ups speaking in the low serious voices reserved for miscarriages and money problems.

I remember after striking out with a girl I’d tell the guys “mission accomplished,” a reference to George Bush falsely declaring victory 42 days into the Iraq War.

I remember being called a “space cadet” and taking it well.

I remember the moment after laughter ended, when no one spoke right away. Someone would say something stupid just to fix it.

I remember thinking butts looked much better in underwear than naked.

I remember wondering when exactly evening is.

I remember the sound of gravel crunching under bike tires at 2 a.m.

I remember my face swelling with emotion when the piano comes in in Supertramp’s “School.”

I remember the tornado warning making us all go to the cafeteria and someone starting to cry.

I remember the lunch ladies’ hands, red and raw.

I remember tomato juice was popular on planes.

I remember football before video assistant referee.

I remember when someone’s mom had cancer and we didn’t know what to say so we said nothing.

I remember hugging my knees in the pool and sinking to where it was still and I was invisible.

I remember the idea that God created everything struck me not only as impossible but the single stupidest idea I’d ever heard.

I remember the kind of happy that can only be achieved by laying on hot sand.

I remember my eyes burning. (Sweat).

I remember palming the sweat up from my forehead and styling my hair with it.

I remember my heart burning. (Stomach acid).

I remember feeling feminine when I sat with my legs crossed.

I remember personal grooming made you metrosexual.

I remember David Beckham.

I remember wearing pink made you gay.

I remember wearing two American Eagle shirts with both collars up.

I remember going through a spray can of Axe every two weeks because I was afraid to shower after gym class.

I remember smelling weed for the first time and knowing what it was, even though I couldn’t have known.

I remember they used to sell salvia right over the counter where you’d buy bags of milk. Some guys I knew would rip it through a Cherry Coke can using a butane torch.

I remember some guys I knew.

I remember hearing about a guy who traded two snowmobiles for a 40 of Jameson.

I remember someone said every day at 12:45 the girl from geography class went to the pines and flashed everyone who cared to gather.

I remember breaking my ankle and walking around on it at Wendy’s because I had no idea what a broken ankle might feel like.

I remember dipping my fries in the chocolate Frosty.

I remember dating a girl I didn’t speak to once after the relationship began.

I remember we never officially broke up.

I remember saying “I don’t know and I don’t care” was the coolest thing you could possibly say.

I remember wheeling through the Sex Pistols and Dead Kennedys on my first iPod mini, the teal one.

I remember wishing I had an English accent.

I remember wanting to be Black.

I remember the Confederate flag hanging above the pool in my friend’s dad’s living room and hearing someone say ‘nigger’ for the first time and meaning it.

I remember how the place smelled like a reptile enclosure: cat piss and printer heat.

I remember thinking, “What the hell?” when my friend’s parents thanked “the lord” for the food we were about to eat. The father liked to declare that family was the foundation of society.

I remember Showtime. They’d play Red Shoe Diaries weeknights at 11. I’d stay up late sometimes, hoping to see bare breasts.

I remember buying Kappa pants marked a significant shift in my self-perception. More European.

I remember that was gay too.

I remember the pair of fake Dolce & Gabbana boxers I bought on the boardwalk of a resort town. I’d pull the Kappa pants down a bit so people saw the D&G waistband when my shirt was off.

I remember lifting weights made me feel contained and expanded at the same time. I liked how my shirt sleeves felt tighter around my upper arms.

I remember it was a great autumn for foliage.

I remember Fleetwood Mac on the radio.

I remember my dad turning it up when AC/DC came on.

I remember Rock 95 FM.

I remember my mom singing along to Phil Collins, and wondering who or what was Sussudio.

I remember the backseat feeling of wanting the destination to be a little further still, of not wanting the car ride to end.

I remember wearing my Death Cab for Cutie shirt made me feel like a poser, a term I learned after refusing to grind curbs on my skateboard.

I remember when a care package came from Germany I’d wonder if you could get drunk from eating enough Mon Chéri.

I remember for the school dance the girls wore dresses so they could tape a flat mickey of vodka or Fireball to the inside of their thighs. When the girl I wanted to dance with got caught and sent home it felt like heartbreak.

I remember, “You are NOT the father!” (Maury Povich).

I remember thinking a friend’s older brother had to buy condoms for you.

I remember “beer before liquor, never been sicker; liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.” A revelation!

I remember the hooded figure of Abu Ghraib and those dumb American grins.

I remember thinking it was so cool my friend’s mom lived above the bowling alley until I went there and heard what that’s like.

I remember swamps were a reminder that my next-door neighbour went to a Halloween party and never returned home. Jake Just. He’s still missing.

I remember being certain they’ll have solved mortality before it became my problem.

I remember starting my days with 32 grams of sugar via two Hot Fudge Sundae Pop-Tarts.

I remember never drinking water pre-emptively.

I remember the bay shining like poured silver.

I remember not knowing what I wanted to do with my life.

I remember no better feeling than driving straight country roads with the windows down.

I remember fiery and glorious end-of-September days.

I remember adulthood seemed both real and not-real, like a jellyfish.

I remember feeling like my life was just beginning.

I remember enjoying this time while I could, and that I should have enjoyed it even more than I did.

⁂

In 1970, American artist Joe Brainard published ‘I Remember’, a memoir comprised entirely of sentences beginning with “I remember,” recounting his childhood in Oklahoma and his later life in New York.

My version takes place in Midland, Ontario, in the year 2004. I was 15.