Monday 30 September, 2013:
I hear from Kepaoa today. ‘gta pay $1250’ he tells me. ‘And 6 months hme d, nd 9months supavisn. Cake az!’
I tell him it’ll go fast. For sure. But I’ll miss him, all the same.
Yup, but I’m not kidding myself either. I’m not after crumbs from anyone. Just… I love who I love, care for who I care for, and I’m gonna do my own thing anyway.
Tuesday 1 October:
La-Verne and I go for coffee at some deli place. The expedition gives me a semi-tired feeling. I start to actually feel my eyes swish and flick with heaviness. Not that it’s unpleasant exactly… just that I can’t be doing with it. Gourmet pies and ready made tiramisu. Little vacuum packs of pork mince at some exorbitant sum. Seventy bucks later, La-Verne walks perkily out to the car with her five items. Try that trick, I just wind up feeling brittle and frozen.
I know when I feel like myself. I get the faintest sniff of a particular scent on the air, carried to me on some little breeze. That’s when my nostrils quiver, my eyes narrow – I feel warm and alive. Like I could chase down anything I want, and get it.
And I want to live and live and live. I want to be warm, and do a million small and big things. I don’t want to just feel sad. I want… what is it that Daniel Miller said? To turn alienable things into ‘inalienable culture’. Transform whatever it is you’re allocated… or anything that you receive, stockpile, hustle, borrow, apprehend. And make something else, something that’s happy and safe. Honestly, happy and safe.
Sometimes, when you think about it, it makes sense.
Saturday 5 October:
I’m in the city by 11, and the first thing I do is sit at one of the outside tables at Istanbul Café, eating lamb pizza out of a paper bag, and sipping on my coffee. The coffee is strong and superhot, and revives me instantly. Then I walk down to the library, find a chair, and keep working on the edits, leafing through books from time to time.
Later I just kind of keep the idea in my heart, and leave it there as something to think about.
I’m still trying to figure this out. Whatever I decide to do, it’s going to take some work to do it. But I really want to. And I have this feeling it’s going to take me ‘somewhere’.
Because I can see how a different pattern’s emerging. How I’m ‘telling’ things, rather than just holding them, no matter how tenderly.
I’ve always tried to create something out of nothing. But I feel like now it’s time to start communicating… re-creating, I guess. Not just looking at memory as something static, but taking another step, to renew and re-create it, and send it forth. I still feel a kind of shame, at the idea of doing this. Being seen, I guess. Being open to scrutiny, or critique, or just being ignored, even. But at the same time, it makes sense to me. And the shame’s not actually as bad as I thought it would be. It really isn’t. My heart sometimes flutters, but I don’t care. Let it be like that, I’m going to do it anyway.
Monday 7 October:
I hear from Leroi a few times today. He wants to know about his Independent Youth Payment. No doubt it’s been cancelled, seeing as he’s back living with Sheree. I toy with the idea of helping him get his beni reinstated – but decide against it. For weeks he’s known about this, and I’ve offered to go with him to Winz already. He hasn’t taken me up on that, and now I’ve got more than enough to do this week.
Quite honestly, Tau is the only one of the boys (Slade being down the line) who I’d go out of my way for right now. With Tau, it’s just… well, it just is like that. Is, was and ever shall be, ha.
But I haven’t seen Tau for a whole week – more than a week. I miss him, and at the same time I just think: I don’t want to be sad. Sheree’s got a house, and it’s the chance for a fresh start for them. Especially with Scott being out of the picture (for the moment). I bet Sheree never thought she could get a house all by herself – without Scott. Though it’s lucky she had Tau to help, Leroi’s money having gone nowhere fast. And Sheree never had any – it was Tau who somehow saved (or procured) the whole, entire, bond.
No, I don’t want to be sad. These three months that Tau stayed here, from the start of July right through to the end of September: well, it mattered. I know it did. It’s something; it isn’t nothing. And I’d do it again, if it came to it. Do it again, and do it better. That’s what I always think, about everything.
Tuesday 8 October:
I go to the PhD info evening, at the Faculty of Education. Actually I don’t get the same vibe as last year, when I sensed – what? I’m not sure. But something.
The evening is enjoyable enough, that isn’t the issue. I meet some people, and there’s wine and a bite to eat, and it’s all very civilized. Which is kind of… but still not entirely the problem.
It isn’t even a problem. Everyone is very nice… and ‘white’ (with one or two exceptions). Everyone’s research is introduced as being ‘really great’ or ‘really interesting’. The crowning glory of boringness (for me) is when a very bouncy and bounding Drama teacher does a presentation about her PhD topic and her exchange to work with a theatre group in Hong Kong.
Then a Canadian woman talks about her trip to some conferences in the States. Well, that’s great for her, but at the same time it’s just non-confrontational stuff, which all feels as if it just as well might have never been, if you get what I mean? It’s so hygienic, and praiseworthy, and nice.
I sit at a table with a social worker, and an early childhood teacher. A ECE teacher…? I mean what kind of PhD would a early childhood teacher do? They are both warm, approachable, easy to get along with. It’s good to meet them, even.
But maybe I don’t want a PhD at all. And yet, I haven’t entirely ruled it out.
I think: I can’t afford it. Plus why would I want a PhD in Education? It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with what these people do. But honest truth, I probably couldn’t handle all that worthiness, all day long. STAR path, and people being ‘passionate about education’, and something called CRSTIE: Critical Studies in Education… yup, critical my ass, that’s what goes through my mind as I sit there and try not to yawn.
Sunday 13 October:
I still feel kind of precarious. I go to the gym, where I keep thinking about Tau, sure he won’t be there when I get home, and then hoping he’s there… and then hoping he isn’t.
Of course, when I get back, Tau isn’t there. I’m glad, in a way. I just think how I don’t want to pretend. I don’t feel like pretending. I feel sad, and at the same time kind of tough.
Old patterns… sure can’t beat ‘em. Or can you? I don’t know about any of this stuff. But I can’t do the same thing over and over. Expecting… what? I’m not sure. I just know I want to change those old patterns. Find another way.
See, I give you my life, mix it up in a blender
To make sure that you feel me (Kendrick Lamar)