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44 :: instrument :: 5/18/01
Jakob is sitting on Freya's couch with her, their shoulders touching, his hand resting against her thigh. Instrument, Jem Cohen's documentary about Fugazi, is playing on her television set. A film of lean and weathered bodies. They got started late, after a few bottles of beer and a few hours of talking about work (Jakob's semester is over and he's hoping to spend the summer preparing some articles to send out to journals; Freya's predictable record-store routine makes her feel stabilized but bored). It's about 11:30 at night now. Energy and motion as active textures. Neither of them have any plans for tomorrow. Jakob steals a glance at Freya. Her soft profile lit by television. Her lips. He momentarily imagines doing something bold, brazen even: taking her shoulders in both his hands and kissing her. A certain cloud of desires galvanizing into behavior. Something stops him. The moment isn't right. You'll know when it's time. Patience. He is enjoying the film; he likes the band. He hadn't listened to them before. The thing that surprises him is the lack of self-conscious irony on display, the seeming earnestness of everything Fugazi does in the film. Irony is an essential element in the gradschool world he inhabits, fundamental as iron: so strange to see into a world that is different. Bizarro World. A place of complete sincerity. Back from the front with observation. Freya shifts. Her arm rests against his. She's ready. She won't let him leave tonight without kissing her. The throb of the music. Chicago is in full bloom.
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Further Reading :: |
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"I want to explore this claim: that hypertext or the world wide web encourages users to think differently, to break out of traditional reading practices . . . In addition, I want to examine the question of whether we would want to break out of certain aspects of traditional reading practices if we could."
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