Life as suggested by a film roll

I feel and I know the depths of what wasn’t captured.

I swear—

A completely different (already written) writing could have been transcribed here but somehow, I can choose.

Another.

What a freeing, empowering thing— to just choose. To get to choose.

And so, I’m choosing to let you know that something woke up inside me a minute ago. It’s nice to put it this way: I’m not necessarily the one who woke up. It was a thought that suddenly felt like curving its back— out now from the bedroom it goes! It was simple a thought, primarily suggested by the seemingly abrupt sequencing of frames in this one folder containing a roll of black & white film that I developed, scanned, received three days ago.

The frames were probably mashed as to sequence and date (stamped 1987, if you can believe), but somehow I was open to believing it might have happened like so…maybe. I began playing with a thought that maybe time is warped and although these frames are now part of the past, their being dated/arranged randomly could suggest an alternate reality; a fun, but deeply profound way of seeing my life in the next coming frames— to shoot, develop, scan, examine, write about again.

How could I have known that my Kyocera Yashica Samurai half-frame film camera (for sale btw, hit me up!) would still be loaded with the same roll that bottled a trip to Siargao with my sister right before my college graduation? Just one frame suggesting that I was being giddy in my toga, thumbs up posing and all that behind my father who I remember had no words just smiles to possibly suggest his profound happiness or excitement or insecurity or boredom or exhaustion after a day of ceremonies that didn’t end up with me receiving a medal. We will never know. Realizing too that standing there prevented my mother from being in frame, but I didn’t know or care then…

In this photo, I seemed happy and tan fresh from a 10-day soaking session on the beach where you can see here too— I seemed happy, cool, sexy, ah! feeling it, nice to the locals, always game for adventures with my sister, what else— coconut trees, tropical indie ah! so cool music, cool men, foreigners, so so many foreigners, bikinis, endless sweating— the good unscented kind, and this—

this unseen truth that I was my most miserable during those times…that year even though I was also truly having the time of my life! I think about it now and understand that maybe both had to happen at the same time. Both true and good and important. And it sure felt heavy— to carry two realities with just one body.

Next frame: I’m suddenly no longer twenty-three…but twenty-five. Birthday at home in my thrifted Tsumori Chisato top that I plan to keep for my future daughter’s first sexy outfit. Twenty-five. Just like that. Graduated. Tanned. Entered the late twenties.

The camera took almost a year sleeping in the drawer, but we can’t possibly see that here! In these frames, life happened in a click! click! click! So swift but properly so. Grain by grain, I subscribe to this velocity.

Next frame: I’m in a house in Los Angeles, California. And then I’m cracking a fortune cookie with Madelina, a woman who spent just a night or two in the same hostel room, who asked me if I wanted to go out when she knew I was alone too. The cookie suggested, “You have found good company - Enjoy”. We can’t possibly prove in these frames, but this woman hinted that I must go to New York simply because I for sure (oh hell yes sure!) wanted to. New York happened and my life is changed, but then again— not much to see here…

Next frame: Venice Beach and this fragile memory of not knowing why the hell (!) was I suddenly there when I knew too based on my phone’s suggestions that I booked to be there. One week of wondering why the hell. But what’s more important now is that we can see in these frames that time passed must have frozen. Or truly has frozen. Nothing to change here now. No pressure, nope. Weird angle. Blurry take 2’s. Blank frames to suggest moments missed to capture but nonetheless “there”…well, quite literally “there” except you can’t see.

But as the suggested person who lived in these frames, I feel and I know the depths of what wasn’t captured.

And that I own them.

And I take pleasure in teasing you with what you will never (ever!) know or see. They’re mine not merely because I took them or because they’re in my possession. Their negatives too. These suggested realities of what happened to me forever now arranged in these frames— are mine because I know it so deeply beyond these hands. These words…

And yet I look at them…another round, still amused— how come all this just happened to me or around me or while I was awake to dare capture?

I am in disbelief just as I am so grateful.