One of the earliest photos I've taken,
I can only date this to be early February (or possibly late January) due
to the events that took place shortly after. First of all, this is a
shot of a snowsnail (gastropod of the Snow Animal Kingdom). The
crudely-crafted sculpture is an homage of one of my favorite childhood
characters, Sedrick Snail (more info on him can be found here).
As for the darkened surroundings, all I can say is: "I built it at
night, so I took a picture of it at night." Now why in God's
name I was lying in the snow at 8:00 PM I'll never know for sure.
All I can remember is that I began this project when it was light out and
I was determined to finish it, despite the darkness.
The very next day, I began to get
sick. Undoubtedly, this can be attributed to my lack of common
sense. Had I come in from the cold while the sun was still out and
had the ability to guard my immune system with its radioactive rays, I
would have been fine. I didn't though, and so I got sick. And
by sick, I mean really sick. It began as a cold with a cough.
It turned into the flu a few days later, and bronchitis a few days after
that. Before I knew it, I found myself barely able to get to school
for a month. Damned anthropomorphized invertebrates arranged of
frozen water molecules and foliage litter will do it every time.
Summer came and the snowsnails
melted. I regained my health and engaged in typical childhood past
times, like doodlebug hunting or playing wicked games of "Piffles and
Nonsense" (many the time I was dubbed Mr. Poppycock in those sprees,
I must admit). The bitter scorn of August left me locked in a school
lacking air-conditioning once more. A year went by and it was July
1994. I had completed the rounds at St. Thomas More and I was now
destined for four more years of Catholic guilt at Desales High
School. Before I was permitted entrance though, I had to go through
routine health exams. Enter the tuberculosis test. One little
shot, a three day wait, and a summative assessment which yielded the
result of "TB positive." What did it mean? Evidently
Doc Holiday's curse had haunted me sometime in my past and would possibly
bring about my doom many years down the road. Such news certainly
brought a damper on our trip to the Orange Julius that day.
Thought on the issue led to the
conclusion that my bronchitis in 1993 must have been in actuality a
manifestation of the disease. We just hadn't realized it at the
time. Granted it wasn't for sure, but since I had been TB negative
in a test administered summer 1992, it was the most logical guess.
So what does it all boil down to? It boils down to the fact that the
damned snowsnail almost killed me! Man, talk about suffering for
art. It's not even good art. But then again, most art is
bad. Arc de Triomphe? More like the Arc de Failure if you ask
me. Lousy frogs. When my TB goes active again, I'm totally
infecting them first.
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