photo by Kelly Davidson
Affection. Affection. Sociopathic rage.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Opposite The Mountain
Bob had gone rogue. Tramping awkwardly away from the relative security of Happy Valley toward the slope, he left half-cocked, too sure of himself for anyone’s comfort. Jim seemed frustrated, maybe offended… though it was hard to tell. I guess we were all a little shaken.
Brenda and I redoubled our efforts. A lapse in focus now could be disastrous.
Okay. So Bob was gone. So what.
It was later, after a slow, unsteady trip up the Magic Carpet that I saw him again… in his jeans and unstylish winter jacket… poles stabbing, chopping, slicing wildly around him as he tumbled off-balance through a pair of teenagers resting with their backs to him.
Later still, Jim would relay with great patience and little detail the final chapter of the saga, in which Bob, falling with tremendous momentum, sends them both flying to the ground, helmets clacking, halfway to the bottom. Jim, his knee injury re-aggravated in the accident. Jim, who said I was cheerful and made me realize I was smiling. Jim, whose guidance had been forsaken that day, but whose tenderness had never faltered.
And all the while, across the frozen river and the road, a thin, steady plume of fog moved over the hills opposite the mountain. Though in all the commotion, we barely noticed.
Brenda and I redoubled our efforts. A lapse in focus now could be disastrous.
Okay. So Bob was gone. So what.
It was later, after a slow, unsteady trip up the Magic Carpet that I saw him again… in his jeans and unstylish winter jacket… poles stabbing, chopping, slicing wildly around him as he tumbled off-balance through a pair of teenagers resting with their backs to him.
Later still, Jim would relay with great patience and little detail the final chapter of the saga, in which Bob, falling with tremendous momentum, sends them both flying to the ground, helmets clacking, halfway to the bottom. Jim, his knee injury re-aggravated in the accident. Jim, who said I was cheerful and made me realize I was smiling. Jim, whose guidance had been forsaken that day, but whose tenderness had never faltered.
And all the while, across the frozen river and the road, a thin, steady plume of fog moved over the hills opposite the mountain. Though in all the commotion, we barely noticed.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
In An Elevator, On A Rainy Day
Me: Sucks.
Stranger: Yeah.
Me: It'll clean everything off though. It's been so gross and dirty outside with all the dirty snow and the dirt and such.
Stranger: Yeah, really.
Me (getting off at my floor, thinking to myself): Man, I'm a tool.
Stranger (as I exit, thinking to himself): What a brave fellow to speak with such honesty and conviction.
Monday, February 21, 2011
How To Vanquish Evil
Twice now I have been tasked with defeating the evil villain from Heroes in my dreams. Last night, I wielded an invisible bow and arrow as one might wield an air guitar during a particularly demanding solo, with great earnestness and intensity... in deep lost-in-the-moment-ness. But looking very, very silly as I wielded.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Interesting Lives of Imaginary People
Where do they go? The photographs...
After movies wrap and TV shows air... when the actors and actresses have moved on to the next script and left their characters to suffer or celebrate their fates... once reusable props have been returned to storage closets and sets have been emptied of all that fiction...
Those family photographs, photographs of vacations, of wives and husbands, of significant events in the lives of people with important stories to tell... framed on mantels, office desks and living room walls. Sitting there, hanging there for us to believe in... sometimes barely noticeable in the shot, other times held up for our careful consideration at key points in a snaking plot... Little rectangles that breathe life into a world of moments that do not exist...
They live on! They are somewhere!
After movies wrap and TV shows air... when the actors and actresses have moved on to the next script and left their characters to suffer or celebrate their fates... once reusable props have been returned to storage closets and sets have been emptied of all that fiction...
Those family photographs, photographs of vacations, of wives and husbands, of significant events in the lives of people with important stories to tell... framed on mantels, office desks and living room walls. Sitting there, hanging there for us to believe in... sometimes barely noticeable in the shot, other times held up for our careful consideration at key points in a snaking plot... Little rectangles that breathe life into a world of moments that do not exist...
They live on! They are somewhere!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Flying Lettuce, Exploding Firecrackers
Chinatown was full of lion dances and firecracker smoke and lettuce leaves littered in alleyways where food offerings had been ceremoniously gobbled up then spit back into the crowds as they howled with glee, everyone jockeying for a better view.
And all those cameras. It bummed you out.
I couldn't have cared less. Of all the photographs taken that day, I only have eyes for yours.
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