Snack Altitudes

The idea of this little series is simple: brief meditations in words and video inspired by my experiences here in Mississippi. Thank you for watching and reading.


Snack Altitudes, Feb. 6th, 2006 7:45 pm (es)
From the Mississippi Motion Series


Snack was served about halfway through the two-hour flight from Chicago to Jackson. As you can see, Southwest Airlines does a good job with the snacks: peanuts (which are still in my jacket pocket), a bag of snack mix (I was disappointed by the preponderance of mealy-textured, vaguely “wheat” crackers but oh well) and a whole can of beverage all to yourself (lost on me because I have never in my life been able to finish a whole canned beverage). I chose cranberry juice, which I had to dispense sparingly and allow to dillute in the ice because the overwhelming sugariness actually stung the roof of my mouth.

As the plane nosed its way off the ground-the world temporarily constructed of fierce angles and violent forces- I watched the lights receding below me and for one brief instant I did look into the expanse of the night and ask myself: “What am I doing?” I tried to make sense of that expanse-of-night as the city of Chicago and also thought “I don’t live here anymore.” It didn’t feel sad or happy. Like nothing really.

I pulled out my journal and began to write. Auspiciously enough, as I began to chronicle these exact musings, my pen exploded. A huge, beautiful inkblot began to diffuse, soaking impressively through several pages of my notebook. In the dim light of my personal overhead bulb, I examined the ink rolling down the neck of the pen, tipping it back and forth watching the viscous glob change directions. I played with it quite a bit and got ink all over my hands. Then the snack came.

I don’t live in Chicago anymore.