trying to assemble a story from the sea of images, to find some webbing - among the random and tangled lines that get washed up along the beach.
the way we thread meaning even through the bare bones of links- there is always some biography unfolding, some yarn. in your choices, your tracing of places, like an itinerary. its hidden agenda.
the way certain lines jump out:
the occasion was the tenth anniversary of the sixties appreciation society
the shindig at the mordialloc Life saving club
An image of the empty bandstand
it is like a tide - unrelenting - a link tide of messages - a gulf stream of consciousness. a current of memes.
anyway - with this task we may flounder trying to create some connection between say a Tasmanian trumpeter on a Stanley field, a random quartet (from the vast schools of dance bands of the thirties) and the faces around Sergeant Baker in the Meteorological Officers Course No 11 yet to don their flying gear. And post war the inheritors of demobbed leather jackets can talk about their mystical power, their twentieth century magic.
What, no choghs?
Posted by Gummo Trotsky at July 30, 2003 02:09 PM
or - you say potato I say "ghoughpteighbteau"
Posted by boynton at July 30, 2003 02:51 PM
That is beautifully done!
Posted by joh at July 30, 2003 09:21 PM
cheers joh, and you know, I came very close to throwing a mackerel into the mix there.
It's a great blog-game.
Posted by boynton at July 31, 2003 12:37 AM