The Metaphorical and Non-Threatening Demons
It’s almost been a year; I think I’m ready to see you again.
A surge of undifferentiated creativity struck and I opened up my video software. There was plenty of spare footage that I’ve never pieced together (or that I had once tried to put together but ultimately failed, as was the case with Reed’s takeover of Pioneer Square in downtown Portland last October), but I noticed the file titled “san fran” that I knew contained some clips which had inspired me originally but had never been tackled.
Most of it’s pretty basic; I watched people walk down the street while sitting outside the cafe sipping tea and then again relaxing by the waterfront. There were some interesting shots, though, like the forty seconds focused on a boy standing atop the tall divider on the Embarcadero talking on his cell phone and pacing, practically dancing. The man in the Quizno’s Cup costume who stood outside to entice hungry passersby down the street to his place of employment- he did a dance for me.
It isn’t that I haven’t looked at the footage because I thought the clips lacked potential. It’s what was between the frames that’s kept me back.
I recorded you on the tape as well, but that piece never made it onto my computer. The contents of the tape were moved over during winter break last year and I didn’t want something so recent of you saved on my hard-drive. It was tempting to watch and reminisce though because I remembered what nonsense I had captured you doing, and I eventually allowed myself to watch you be your relaxed, quirky self, but I refused to plug the camcorder into the speakers so there was no audio. I put the tape out of reach and forgot everything.
But I can’t make a montage of my lost week in San Francisco without you, can I? You were my reason for traveling there after all. I’ll stick you inbetween cuts of tourists and businessmen. Your face will flicker over the pan of the bridge. Your voice will be dubbed over the white noise of the street.
You jokingly threatened to destroy the tape because of the fool you looked like during the two-minute-long moment when the red light was on and I observed you. But don’t worry; no one will ever see it. I had copied over the tape at the first chance I got so that when it did come time to remember, you wouldn’t be there.
You’ll still be in the video, though. I’ll just be the only one who sees you.