I sometimes wonder about myself, and my ability to take the simplest event and twist it into a Gordian knot of unnecessary perplexity.
Case number 1: The Pictures.
Way, way (did I mention “way”?) back in the day, pictures were taken with something called a “camera” using a light sensitive material called “film”. This film was then given to the local pharmacy who would ship it off to some mysterious lab deep in the Carpathian mountains on the Isle of Carpa. These would then be developed and shipped back to the pharmacy in the form of photos (‘prints’) or small transparencies (‘slides’). This whole process would take three or four days and it was always fun to view the blurry results of the Pulitzer Prize winning pictures taken sometime last week. Occasionally, there would be a nice one.
Hawaii’s natural beauty begs to be photographed, and in my youth I would often take pictures of the ocean, sky and mountains; scenes of remarkable beauty and color. I would drop off the roll of film, they would give me the receipt and I would make a note to return in a few days. One fine day I did this and anxiously stood before the counter to receive my pictures.
The lady working there says, “Hi, prints?” I didn’t expect this question so early in our social interaction, and I distinctly heard her say “Prince”? To which I answer brightly, “No, Fenton.” She sighs and says, “prints or slides?” I say, “Oh, prints”, followed by a nervous and slightly hysterical giggle whilst looking down at my rubber slippers.
Many years have passed and I cannot tell you anything about the “prints” I received from the bemused clerk, but I remember with laser clarity the look she gave me and the odd way my mind works.
In legend, the Gordian knot has been described by Roman historians as “comprising several knots all so tightly entangled that it was impossible to see how they were fastened.” Yeah, that’s about right. And also, Prince.
whoisfenton 