“Anyone want some pie?”
I’m watching the movie ‘Heat’.
There’s a dozen scenes that stick out in my memory, and I’ve seen it at least a dozen times by now. That’s what the weekend are for, right? Doing whatever you feel like?
Meanwhile, at my back, my work PC is cycling through a batch of images and converting them for use as alpha channels. My personal PC is sitting alongside it; a few Illustrator files are still open for stuff I’m sending to the print shop this week.
There’s a fog of garlic and balsamic smells drifting out of the kitchen.
If I lift the misted lid to the Crock Pot, then I can see individual shards of garlic clinging to the top of the eight pound hunk pork loin laying placidly in there.
The top third of the pork loin is the only section that isn’t submerged by chicken broth. As the pork settles, more of it sinks underneath the broth, and more of the garlic motes that I mentioned float away. Those that remain begin to brown and crisp in the heat.
They remind me of people, kinda.
Like people stuck on an island.
The subconscious mind is a mute, silent part of ourselves.
It’s an aspect of self which has no direct voice. It doesn’t speak to us directly, as such.
Instead, a song comes to mind, out of nowhere.
You’ll be setting a dish down, closing a cabinet door, or getting into your car…
…and you find yourself humming a song to yourself.
Today, in my case, it was Bob Dylan’s: “The Times They Are A-Changing”.
…and I don’t even like Bob Dylan.