C.S. Lewis on his father, who I want to make clear was in this respect not at all like my own. This description, Abby would be glad to tell you, applies more to my egregious imbalance between restless mental activity and inattention.
But I think it’s a very good point: there is a connection between activity and reception in the mind. I never remember anything but am always thinking, generally quite uselessly but sometimes profitably; my memory, on the other hand, is the worst of anyone I know, and has actually grown faultier as I’ve grown more distracted in keeping with the times. I can feel my memory improving whenever I am away from civilization for a spell, away from the web in particular.
As a contrast, I never hear Will babbling or pondering the sort of imbecilic minutiae which make up my internal monologue, and he remembers everything.
