Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Thursday, January 27, 2005

January 27, 2005


Santa Anita Race Track in a strange sulphur light--trying to anticipate whether to pick a mud horse or not for the 8th race. No mud yet but a storm coming on soon and an old pro next to me with a cigar telling me Delahoussey is the best mud jocky and I know that but don't tell him I know--letting him be an expert--but he's now not that man but my old friend Katsu from Tokyo--old now--much too deeply creased and raspy voiced frail. He says he's won a lot recently and no longer has to work--he's found 'a method'. I tell him I don't believe him so he becomes defensive and sulky. I don't really care and start to walk away and he's now quite friendly and wants to give me a bunch of tickets all neatly stacked in an old fishing tackle box with 'CIGAR' branded inside the lid.

Walking in the snow in Seefeld at night with Cécile--I'm barefoot and she's wondering where my boots are--I tell her 'Don't worry it's not cold at all--you should try it too' but it's not real snow at all but little spongy white styrofoam packing beads. They're floating off as I step down and statically cling to my face and keep re-clinging each time I try to brush them off. I pull out my camera from my backpack. It's got a rotary-like head attachment clamped on the body which I attach in place of the lens and start shaving my face while walking around in a circle. My foot sinks into a cold water hole and Cécile is panic-stricken for me to 'Turn the razor off!' I'm fumbling with the shutter button but it's not the the off switch--then I remember in the back of my mind that it's on batteries. I start laughing and then fake being electrocuted and she's now crying hysterically. I play dead with my eyes wide open staring at the tiny white beads swirling and I'm thinking of the Milky Way.

3 Comments:

Blogger mcbickle said...

Another lovely kicker. For some reason makes me think of Cubism--something about the structure of the writing combined with the swirling imagery. I also have resonating around my head, "This is a Neutra house!"
Snappy.

L.

6:29 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

The kicker meaning the horses? Cubism meaning the cigar boxes?

8:33 PM  
Blogger mcbickle said...

The kicker meaning, "I play dead with my eyes wide open staring at the tiny white beads swirling and I'm thinking of the Milky Way." Sorry, "kicker" is a stupid journo term. I'll restrain myself.
And Cubism meaning, I think, all the movement of the Styrofoam mixed with the morphing camera-razor made me think of an exploded image, like a Cubist painting. Too internal a thought to make sense of, it seems, even in my own head.

8:43 PM  

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