the persistance of memory (dali would understand).

there is no escaping it. it is always present. it taunts the old and teases the young with it’s seeming forever-like quality. but it does not go on forever, not on this plane, anyway (new age-y much, lisa?). it has a name: time. and time is going by. my son turns 10 this new year and another birthday is upon me. i am on the precipice of something i do not know and time is part of the tomfoolery. manage it, waste it, pretend that it doesn’t really matter all that much. time is a verb and time is moving. fast. or slow, depending on your inclination. time is also a noun in the form of a commodity that we are constantly selling with recklessness and trying to buy back with remorse. what have i done with it all?

i found a rather nice vintage clock today. a phinney-walker. it’s collectible, worth upwards of $200 and i paid $11 for it. i have ‘clocks’ on several things in my house. three computers tell me the time. two (too many) cable boxes. iPhone. various watches. timepieces everywhere. time time ticking, ticking away…but here is the thing: the phinney-walker clock makes time and the passing of it seem so much…better. no digital reading. real hands. second hand. a very clear picture of 24 hours. the numbers on it are mesmerizing: some long-forgotten style of font that makes a harvey milk-toast numeral come to life and show you his Real Numeric Personality. but, to me, the most special thing about this clock is that someone else’s eyes have witnessed the passing of time on it as well. many eyes, maybe. a whole damned family. long before the digital/computer/wired revolution, someone else’s eyes have looked at this clock and gauged their life by it. measured out their lives with coffee spoons under it’s continuously moving hands. where did time take them? where is it taking me?

closer to what is real, closer to what is true…
the precipice is quite an interesting place, let me tell you.