On time, memory, and technology: La Jetee and a bag of tapes.

From a used ghetto blaster* to French avant-garde film in four moves.

As a result of buying a wicked Philips boombox--complete with strap--at a yardsale on Saturday (in support of the NB Rebelles and their cause), I ran home and dug out my shoeboxes of tapes. Crammed in between Dee-Lite's "World Clique" and Much Dance '93 was a tape labelled "All About Me 1991".

Popping it in, I was immediately treated to a recorder solo, a 5 minute atonal rendition of "We are the World," and a song I wrote "with my friend Martha, she's REALLY into Peace" called Firebomb ("about a little war that just happened, not like, the Second World War, a small one that happened last year between Iraq and Saudi Arabia..."). The format is me talking to my future self, or rather, admonishing my future self on all the plans I've already made, via a genius future-telling game called "M.A.S.H.".

Apart from being side-splittingly amazing and teeth-gnashingly horrendous (I use the word fag in a song I wrote about wishing someone a happy birthday...?!), the tape is a time-travelling gem. I am reminded of my old constant fascination with time and communicating with my future self. Everyone did this I suppose, it's just amazing to have such a concrete example. And, task fulfilled as planned, here I sit 17 years later, imagined self and past self united in an onanistic continuum.

Thoughts of dialogue between selves made me think of French filmmmaker Chris Marker's 1962 film "La Jetee". It is a beautiful, clever, sci-fi short film that later became the basis for Terry Gilliam's feature Twelve Monkeys (His version is a great film, but try watching the trailer after watching Marker's film... yikes.)

Told through a succession of still black and white images and narration, the film follows a man in a post-apocalyptic world, who can move through time. He falls in love with a woman in the past, and her presence provides one of the most beautiful moments in cinema. Watch and see.

Now the tape recorder has been replaced by new technology, and the dialogue/monologue continues. Thank goodness blogging and youtube didn't exist when I was 9.

The film is 26 minutes, and can also be found here



*That's what I grew up calling a portable stereo not realizing the meaning, and feel no need to white-wash with new terminology. Acknowledge the origin and remember.