Just another Daily Create: What’s In Your Fridge?
December 22, 2014
“Fridges are always filled with new and old items. Make a movie of items you’ve just added to your fridge and items that are so old you need to throw them away.”
I have two fridges, and neither one of them have anything in it so old I need to throw it away–that’s not how I roll. However, Christmas Dinner is already coming together in both fridges, including a dry curing prime rib, apples for my Grandma Ellen’s Apple Harvest Cake, and a beginning stash of champagne, white wine and microbrews.
It should have been a whole lot shorter, I know that, but once I got Siri Vik on the sound track, I couldn’t stop until the song was done–even then, I had to tack on a bit of her performing at the end–coda #2!
Again, as so much I have been doing the last few months, this is more in the nature of a personal journal entry, which inevitably means that if it were to be a truly published piece anywhere except on my blog, it would need to be scripted, edited, re-thought and re-shot. But journals are rough cuts of the mind: what-I’m-thinking-to-myself-right-now.
As I am a fairly occasional drinker, I added wine to my afternoon tapas bar experience, but if I were hanging with Lloyd Meeker or any of my other non-drinking friends, I am also happy with sparkling cider or a nice glass of sparkling water with a lemon slice.
It’s amazing really – there you are sitting in a red Naugahyde booth in a vintage DS106 diner somewhere on the gritty upper west side of Your Fair City reading a paper cup made out of the last of the old-growth Doug Firs we’re fighting to protect out here in the great Northwest like you couldn’t bring your own go-cup.
While you’re waiting for your DS106 Little Taste of India Soup to arrive, you’re reading about how when Peter and I drove up to our house after Thanksgiving, we got out under this huge Doug Fir in our front yard, and the sky was black with a couple hundred yelling screaming crows.
They were diving in and out of the tree – the noise! The collective for crows should be a Cacophony of Crows.
Our abrupt arrival directly under their manic maelstrom made them never no mind– they were all deep inside their own reality.
It didn’t take a crow translator to understand the thousand rowdy shades of “Trouble, Will Robinson!”
I wanted to see what was in the tree that had so many crows so vociferously upset. I craned my neck, to use a bird verb, then started backing up and backing up until finally I could see right through a hole in the branches about 20 feet up.
Huddled next to the trunk was one very put-upon looking Redtailed Hawk. He had mottled brown and white feather patterns, telling me he was this year’s juvenile. Poor bastard. Many times larger than a crow, he been mobbed down out of the sky to take refuge in our tree, which is why they actually call it an Unkindness of Crows.
I started screaming for Peter to come look, and the crows seem to like that, but for the hawk, it was too much, and he launched himself desperately out into the air and made for the river on heavy wingbeats.
The crows followed, divebombing, yelling, circling, laughing, the whole mob moving away from our house tree by tree toward the water.
On Halloween once, standing in the same place on the drive, looking up into the sky over the river, I saw five bald eagles passing through headed for the Klamath Marsh. In the winter, we have juncos, and nuthatches, which feed crawling down the tree, and brown creepers that feed crawling up the tree, or is it the other way around?
Today’s Daily Create was to make an antimovie in the style of Andy Warhol, who famously filmed a guy sleeping for 45 minutes.
I took my cue from the very funny French cat videos of Henri, the feline with the most expressive ennui in the world…
Caveat emptor: This is not everyone’s sense of humor!
Today’s Daily Create was to make a slooow video. The slowest forces we can’t imagine are geologic and cosmic, so I went with BIG and OMINOUS. I felt like a kid throwing contraband firecrackers through a conveniently open window…
Peter and I were spring breaking it in Newport, Oregon, and were highly entertained by the mostly inert, sleeping sea lions. Every once in a while, one would burst into a loud complaint then fall back asleep. I dunno–I thought it was funny!
--From "East Coker"
You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again,
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.
This Daily Create asked me to, “Record a video of a process, and use your editing chops to reverse the clip. Add a narration that explains what is happening like it happened in that order.”
That isn’t exactly what I felt like doing, and when I asked myself why, T.S. Eliot’s poem The Four Quartets came to mind and the way time in that poem goes forward, moves back, repeats, and, in a way, constantly “unmakes” itself.
East Coker is a village near Somerset, England, where Eliot’s ancestors in 1669 left in search of religious freedom in America. He and his wife Valerie are both buried there.
Overall, the poem says that when humans follow only science and not the divine, both time and nature become unraveled or disordered.