...

Reel to Real

It showed up in the mail, we think. An old film reel. None of us threaded it upon the projector. None of us knew where the projector came from either. And yet it began to play.

Day and night the projector flickered, the reel playing on the wall. It flickered an almost blinding white light whether in the dark of midnight or at the high colorful hues of the afternoon.

At first we remarked upon it, tried to take it apart. Personally, I once ripped the film from the projector and set it on fire. Due to the set up of the apartment, the landlords having installed fire alarms on both sides of the galley kitchen, two separate alarms went off, blaring into the night until I took them down and removed their batteries.

I left it for the next day to restore the alarms to their rightful places. When I did I glanced over at the projector. It began to hum and the reel began to project again.

My roommates tried similar tactics. Neither film nor projector could be removed once they had arrived in our domicile.

It became a fact of life, just part of our living, a dull electronic hum in the background of the day to day. No more worth thinking about than the ever present pile of dishes in the sink I was always just about to do.

We stopped talking about it. We stopped thinking about it. And yet the reel just kept flickering forward, as if the film had neither start nor end. Just an emptiness projected upon our wall.

It's almost not worth thinking about. ges I am using, transforming, re-contextualizing, for example.)