Cold, makes things look organized that much longer. Then freezing and thawing seem to throw little illusions in our path. Or it could be the waves of heat coming from the gloves clenched in your teeth distorting perspectives.
How well do we recognize order in dimensional planes? Is it like time, irrelevant in absence of context? P. Greenaway says that humans have weak skills in recognizing symmetry over time.
I assume, that is all I can do, that the order needed to create an even build-up ov particles is ov particular note. Of course that bit of fence needs to be there in order to add a sceptical perspective; but ov what exactly.
There is a practice to preparing the perfectly tied skate. It is acquired over time and patience; many painful practices and games before getting it close to just right. Every player has a trick of their own, ’cause the fucking things are painful at the best of times. All editorials aside, there is a certain fluidity and tension in those few moments spent getting the blades on the bottoms of your feet.
I am still left rather startled at this /idea/ intruding on me this way. Being present and oddly potent. It all started with a few recordings at a Canadien vs. Toronto game at the Molson Centre in Montréal in 02012. Something in those WAV files infected my imagination.
He came back. Who? you might say. My answer would have to be, “why Owen of course”. To which you would reply Owen? /with a slightly puzzled, but selfishly thought of well disguised, look on your face. Owen is a forty to fifty ish kinda guy, likes hockey a little too much, but is kind of zen about it.
It all started with a few recordings at a Canadien vs. Toronto game at the Molson Centre in Montréal in 02012. Something in those WAV files infected my imagination.