The Book of War and I
By Tyler Vipond
I remember one night, not long ago, some friends and I were drinking rum and strawberries. We had run out of ice and one of us had decided that putting frozen strawberries in our rum would cool it down, as well as make it taste better. It still just tasted like rum. The only difference was that now it had little chunks of strawberry floating in it. I think that’s how most drinks get invented, through necessity. We needed it to taste better and be colder, margaritas got started that way, martinis got started that way I’m sure. Those drinks were successes, ours was a failure, but at least our hearts were in the right place. I’m sure that that’s what George Bush was thinking when he decided to call the troop escalation in Iraq a “Surge”: Cool it down, make it taste better. Of course, it still just tasted like escalation. That’s what happens when you don’t understand mixology. Later in the evening we all laughed with nervous eyes as our friend repeatedly stabbed the kitchen garbage can with a rusty knife.
This work is a semi-narrative that draws lines between its themes by way of visual analogy. Shell casings look a lot like shot glasses. Caterpillars are camouflaged like soldiers fatigues. They spread by thread like commandos on zip lines. The wailing of a woman in mourning may be mirrored by the look of terror on a friends face as he succumbs to a hidden psychosis, under the influence of drugs and alcohol. These are the visuals that I have accumulated through personal experience, documentary footage, and the dreams and imaginings that I’ve found fit to write down. Through these visual similarities I am exploring the blend of civility and savagery in North American culture. I am not passing any moral judgments. I am looking at the bare visuals. I think a drunken nightmare can look a lot like wandering through a war zone.
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