Old computer files are amazing, like finding your childhood diary (waiting, and waiting, for an old computer to chug through the cobwebs to pull up the old stuff is, however, not amazing).
Many summers ago, I came up with a project. I had a couple of polaroid cameras, and a bunch of film, and I took photos of whatever happened to be there. Then I wrote a sentence on the photo, and dropped them in different places. I found the document in which I’d written bits of things to use for the photos. I don’t remember what got used and what didn’t, but I remember the impetus for these:
Maybe this is how life skips, shattering the anticipated progression.
This is a checkerboard strewn with the carved marble pieces that look grown-up and at once alien and familiar; it’s chess, before you know the rules and the moves and the strategies. Before you know that one mistake can bring down the kingdom. Before you understand that each move is connected, and that the belief that this one move won’t affect the sanctity of your King is entirely unfounded. And that you can’t take it back. Because that’s it, that’s the game. That’s it.
I brought you here knowingly; why should I want to take you back?
Hold this for a second. Sucka.
Twice a fortune cookie told me I believe in the goodness of mankind.
He said that I say “ichthyology” like a kiss.
A wolf taught me patience, and taught me to hurry with it, because time is short, and impatience will make time unbearable.
That was a really fun project. I’d kind of like to reprise it, but refine it a little. Give it more mystery, and a way to follow it somehow. This is something to work on, for the summer maybe.