Monday, September 17, 2007

This is a test; don't adjust your screen

IMG_05831_1Frame 1: Doug is holding a fish he caught in the Smilkameen River. It's a whopping eighteen pounds and he looks mighty proud in a green mac. The trees behind him are scrubby, their knuckled roots cling to the rocks beside the river. Thoughts of the reification of consciousness abound.

Frame 2: Granny's holding her bingo chips. She talks with an accent even though she was born here. She's wearing a fresh coat of lipstick, a pinkish colour called desert rose. She smiles, rearranging the contents of her huge purse. Secretly she's contemplating Luckacs and Heidegger (like I am while I write this).

Frame 3: Gord, caught midair before hitting the lake ass first. He'd never admit it but that hurt like hell.

Frame 4: The look you gave me before you curled up and fell asleep, the weight of your head on my breast, the smell of your hair as it brushed my lips, how you turn me into an envelope.

Frame 5: Joni playing her guitar in a circle of friends. Shortly afterward, tragedy will befall some of the group but for now they're playing David Bowie songs and forgetting the words, switching to that Green Day song that everybody knows because everyone knows it. Her glasses are new but the scenario isn't. They never are.

And that's where they say that the word's derived from the Latin word rem/res and that's where it all begins to make perfect sense. As opposed to this post, which doesn't.