stopmer
thats crap. I wrote a stupid poem about stompers. I deleted it. it was crap. I was trying to recall the tactile memories of the little toys. the feel of the smashed flat worn out crept on my face as I lay there eye level with the toy. for hours. playing around with the stupid thing. its body long gone. the little light in the front. kind of dangling, loosing its connection if you wiggled it. over and over I would flip the battery around. it would reverse. flip it back it would go forward. the little wheels made out of some sort of fome rubber. I would pull them off and chew on them. put them back on. who knows why. clumbsaly trying to keep it steady I would let the thing roll over my face as I lay there. eventually. the thing would run slower and slower. I took it for granted you know. the whole thing. every bit of it. yet none of it would have been posable had I known that someday I would be trying to remember the thing. the stupid thing. the time. the feelings. that afternoon sun making the carpet warm. thats when we first learn to do it you know. to forget that these things are meaningful. to tare them to pieces, running the energy out of them. until.
posted by Josh at 10:54 PM
5 Comments:
I had stompers! They were cool as hell. I had no idea you could reverse polarity and make them go backwards.
I remembered those funny looking tires as soon as I saw the picture.
7:21 AM
I like the feeling behind this, Josh. I don't care one bit about little trucks, never did, but the intent to remember these things one leaves behind is nice.
10:16 AM
thanks. I don't care much about the trucks either, well, I should say that I don't care much about them anymore. but I do remember the tiers! what a name. STOMPER. haha! I love it!
I like that "the intent to remember" thats it isn't it? Things, nostalgia, purpose. Our intentions are like our heads. It keeps fixed on a thing as it comes to us and passes by us and fades away into the past. Those are the stages of all meaning right? It all pivots on our intentions.
The stomper is a meaningless object and currently one that doesn't even exist. Its my intentions all along that strike it into meaning and even existence recognized by humanity.
the experience of the object creates the idea, then the idea replaces the object. We can only view something in that order. It's impossible to NOT take a moment for granted because the idea (or the "moment") doesn't even exist until you do take it for granted.
Isn't that both sad and beautiful at the same time?
10:13 PM
It is quite poignant, and bittersweet. Sadly many people do this with their relationships as well, and the idea of the person becomes more real that the actual person. I'm not sure how to separate the habit of relating the "things" and "persons" from this sort of thing, but I think the best relationships are when people can do this together. I digress, now I'm not even sure what I'm talking about.
Anyhow, I liked this, do more!
7:14 AM
Josh, I would have to disagree with you when you say that a moment doesn't become real until you take it for granted. I would argue that that's when it stops being something real and just background noise. The same thing goes for the people in our lives. Anyway, I really liked this post. I liked when you described the carpet being warmed by the sun because that is one of my favorite tactile memories of being a child; lying on the warm carpet like a cat. Anyway, your post made me think of The Hours and when Clarissa describes this memory of being on a porch and being happy "then." She lost it all. That whole book/movie is about losing happiness and how we are all so very unknowingly capable of that. Happiness requires vigilance. Anyway, I have a poem that my former (and future) boss gave to me that you should read. It's about how we focus on the details now and don't really remember "how to ride into the sunset with the wind in our face" on our toy ponies.
10:29 AM
Post a Comment
<< Home