I'm now back from a previously unmentioned vacation, which began on Wednesday, the first full day of this five day weekend. The first day was spent driving to Williamsburg, the second meandering around historical sites in Williamsburg, the third at Busch Gardens and the fourth meandering around a few more historical sites and driving back. My most distinct memory from Busch Gardens is riding Apollo's Chariot in the dark, and afterward, seeing that the camera had caught me in the midst of three strangers with hands upraised, pinky and index fingers extended, and a huge grin on my face. I also saw Trevor there, earlier on in the day. I'd been to the same historical sites before, though, and they weren't very interesting this time either, and Trevor wasn't at any of those, which I envy him for.
At one point, while standing around being bored, I heard some passing stranger mention ultralights. Hey, I thought, ultralights are pretty cool, maybe I can get a job building ultralights - let's see, I'd need to learn about engines, aerodynamics, lightweight materials... and that was about the time I realized that ultralights probably are not a profitable enterprise, a hobby at best. Would be a cool hobby, though.
And I had a lot of things in my mind in those bored moments, things I meant to carry back inside my head so that I could put them somewhere else - on here perhaps, or maybe just (briefly) in other people's heads. But all the worthwhile parts of those thoughts somehow trickled away, leaving only the thesis statements that I used as mnemonics, dusty skeletons that I can't flesh out into anything interesting to myself or anyone else. I don't have the least idea anymore what it was that made me dwell on those things, laugh to myself, or why I cared about them in the first place. It's merely due to the fact that many things are only briefly interesting, I suppose, though for an inscrutable cause, packrat instinct perhaps, I don't want to discard those relics unsaid.
Consolidation (necessary because the above paragraph is more or less incomprehensible): a thought is generally not worth mentioning once the act of mentioning becomes more important than the thought itself.
Chris makes great magic:
on useless shards of chaos,
bad poetry thrives.
posted on Saturday, October 18, 2003
|
|
