The Track on the Surface: Some Thoughts on a New Marriage, Light, and Order

The life of a woman is like a ledger. To maintain accuracy, all transactions must be recorded, all documents must be filed, and all surfaces must be level. This system is not the Archivist's choice; rather, it is the sole means by which the world's anarchy can be contained. An unplanned, disorderly variable is a honeymoon. The Surface Record starts off as a straightforward travelogue—a record of spending, inspections of hotel rooms, and observations of the light—set against the backdrop of a sterile, luxurious resort. The Archivist's system is under intense strain as the resort's immaculate surfaces start to show their imperfections, such as a continuous gurgling in the pipes, a misplaced reservation, and an inaccurate dinner bill. Her ledger, which was hitherto a tool of total command, is now compelled to change. The world's imperfect, live, unpredictable system, including the new marriage it contains, as well as unlogged voids and chaotic data must now be taken into consideration. The Surface Record is an insightful, introspective record of a mind trying to file the un-fileable—a formal, psychological meditation on order, control, and the administrative act of observation.