Saturday, September 04, 2004
I've been reading the river trash. As the season ripens, it piles up like fallen fruits. It presents a narrative of appetite and thirst, a text of careless snacking. One could apply quantitative methodologies, and chart the relative prevalence of the sweet, the savory, the salty. Even create maps -- a cluster of Skittles packets beside the footbridge. A Pringles cylinder upended in the knotweed. A Slim Jim sleeve draped over a barberry branch. Would a pattern emerge ?
But how can one possibly interpret a 30 pound can of lard, White Champion Lard, no less, scoured absolutely clean -- good, apparantly, to the last drop -- thrown into the thicket beneath the railroad trestle ?
Is there a hermeneutician in the house ?