Anna, who writes Little Red Boat (among other things. Anna is one of those talented but probably mythical beings who is actually PAID for Making With the Words) came up with an intriguing project not too long ago. She and Her Beloved planned themselves a trek across a lot of America by train (that's not the intriguing part, although it is pretty nifty) and she apparently began doing a lot of very deep and philosophical thinking about time and distance and relativity and experiencing things IN the moment and whether or not we pay attention because we're too busy thinking of the NEXT moment or, more likely these days, Twittering about it or posting about it so that what we're experiencing is not really the moment itself but our own observation of it.
Okay, I totally extrapolated that last bit, but she must have been thinking SOMETHING interesting because she came up with the brilliant idea of journaling her trip not in a Moleskin or via Twitter or e-mail, but on a series of 150 postcards which would then be posted off to 150 different people.
I do a rather ridiculous amount of pondering about time and memory and stuff so this sort of did that bell-like resonance thing with me, you know where something goes 'BING' in your brain and you start thinking about it and you're not sure what you're thinking, only that it's kind of making fireworks on the very fringes of your mind so you're really excited only it's not clear at all about what.
Maybe it's just me that does that.
Anyway, the thing is Anna's trip has been chopped up into tiny little clips, just little flashes, and then shuffled thoroughly and spread to the winds. So she has her linear memory of it: boarding the train and finding the seat and feeling the acceleration as they head off to the first stop, but then 150 people have one little out-of-context moment... see? I told you I'm not clear about it, but really, isn't that cool?
So.
A couple of days ago, despite the fact that she's clearly mythical, my postcard came:
and this is what it said:
"We'd left Memphis on the late night train, and stomachs full of cheap beer and nice burgers, because soul music and dive bars and 'world famous soulburgers' were the only food available near the station.
"When we wake up, we're approaching Chicago, and when we've dumped our bags in a locker, 2nd step into the streets it is the beginning of the business day on a Wednesday, and everyone is powerwalking around in skirt-suits and trainers, high heels in their bag for when they get where they're going, and here I float, in the middle of them; lost a bit, not going where they're going, and not with the same purpose of sense of forward motion and drive. I feel really out of place."
And I realized that what Anna wrote there is exactly what I was trying to say about the whole project - that each postcard is that small glimpse of a totally different life and place, while I am outside it, missing the context, observing without experiencing or understanding, which is what makes it enjoyable.
Thanks for the glimpse, Anna, and here's postcard 91 on a slighty cluttered desk in New Mexico:
Notes:
1. Anna's also uploaded photos and stuff to her Snailr project website here
2. The head was a gift from my sister (who in a former blog was known as The Superior Aunt) and it is wonderful. Not only is it very pleasant to hold, it makes a lovely rattley noise when shaken. This means that when I'm stuck on something I can rattle it and pretend I'm thinking when really I'm doing nothing of the sort.
3. The small bottle holds sand and seashells and was a gift from The Overstretched Frog who is currently very near a beach indeed - the smug git - and knows how much I miss the ocean.
4. The Guinness glass is an inside family joke.
5. The bas relief is a cheap copy of Donatello's St. Cecilia
6. Not that it matters but the other stuff is my computer, a Wacom tablet pen in a stand, and the camera lens I've been meaning to put away for two weeks now.
It's a fabulous project isn't it.
Mine* arrived just as I was getting ready to leave on a trip of my own.
It says:
I know, knew coming into this journey that the American rail system is primarily a place of industry, freight, and business. But heading down the East Bay, away from Emeryville, looking over to San Francisco across the salt flats I've only seen from planes, I'm *slightly* concerned that I've signed up for the world's longest & most comprehensive tour of industrial estates. 'SAND' 'BARRELS' PALATES'(sic) 'PARTS' shout the signs from the big grey rectangles we pass. By the time we get back, I think I may be more of an expert in fork lift trucks than I ever dreamed possible.
I thought it would be fun to share my postcard here with you as a way of increasing the crisscrossing connections of anna's journey.
*you can see it at: http://astaa.tumblr.com/post/1171382266/the-snailr-project-its-annas-she-of
in case my html link making skills are rubbish.
Posted by: asta | 10/11/2010 at 11:18 AM
Creditors 4 have better memories than debtors . haaa
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