Sunday, November 09, 2003
being ill is now getting boring.
three weeks of influenza, migranes, sore throat and weakness and aching in the body.
id also lurches from one thing to another.
makes one thankful for the usual freedom we have from illness.
three weeks of influenza, migranes, sore throat and weakness and aching in the body.
id also lurches from one thing to another.
makes one thankful for the usual freedom we have from illness.
Monday, November 03, 2003
monday
rain hits the window pane.
the last few weeks have been a slog.
idi sick with fever, infections
A completely lost her voice for the last 10
i had migranes but was the strongest of us all, and ploughed on.
feelings of antagonism to the world inevitably arise in me, an issue of inner rage
that i try to think when it first surfaced.
frustration that i have no framework, no way to push through my ideas.
since beginning to develop writing a little
it fuels an appetite that creates a tension with my life
the only time i have is after 9 in the evening when i am so tired i could die
and what i do write is filled with tired cliches, set at a distance from who i really am
i am an oral storyteller
i dig an anecdote in every situation
part of who i am
but to test it on paper it loses its flavour
must work
must make time must make space.
rain hits the window pane.
the last few weeks have been a slog.
idi sick with fever, infections
A completely lost her voice for the last 10
i had migranes but was the strongest of us all, and ploughed on.
feelings of antagonism to the world inevitably arise in me, an issue of inner rage
that i try to think when it first surfaced.
frustration that i have no framework, no way to push through my ideas.
since beginning to develop writing a little
it fuels an appetite that creates a tension with my life
the only time i have is after 9 in the evening when i am so tired i could die
and what i do write is filled with tired cliches, set at a distance from who i really am
i am an oral storyteller
i dig an anecdote in every situation
part of who i am
but to test it on paper it loses its flavour
must work
must make time must make space.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
A funny day, not in haha funny just funny.
My dreams so powerful they invaded my day.
Dreamt about my past as though it belonged to another person
Kept that feeling all day
A sense that my past is not something I can touch re-live, try and re-create
That whatever I build here will be put in the shade of what I established there
In the land of my past
Here I land, on the parachute of lust, and that disorientation lives on.
I spoke at length about memory and the creation of the self.
We talked about how both of us leaned on specific event filled stages as staging posts in our lives.
Which for us both concerned traveling.
She countered saying that one leaves behind a part of oneself wherever one has been and that one may never feel, truly feel as one did unless one can be in that environment.
Relying so heavily on pictures the other sense are dumbed and can’t be re-lived except by outside stimulus. Smell, touch etc.
And when one is no longer within reaching distances of those places where experiences were born it is difficult to ascertain whether they continue to make up a true part of the self, something that truly stays with one.
A has been in the same environment has the same friends that she’s had for 30 years. That I can’t comprehend, yet somehow wish I had. Now I am here I feel as though I am shipwrecked on an island, looking back out onto the sea for traces of my past. The future plays no part for me. I live in the past and the present the future is something I can’t comprehend, or have little faith in, at times that is. Building meaning frameworks, relationships here, formulating futures, which anchor me in Sweden.
So I joined a male synchronized swimming group.
First male group in Sweden since 1929.
A group of overweight unathletic men with a deep sense of irony and an eye for a grant from the idrotts forbundent.
Training camp in Estonia next year.
Is this the type of futures I yearn to build?
god leadbelly is god. tell me girl where did you sleep last night?
My dreams so powerful they invaded my day.
Dreamt about my past as though it belonged to another person
Kept that feeling all day
A sense that my past is not something I can touch re-live, try and re-create
That whatever I build here will be put in the shade of what I established there
In the land of my past
Here I land, on the parachute of lust, and that disorientation lives on.
I spoke at length about memory and the creation of the self.
We talked about how both of us leaned on specific event filled stages as staging posts in our lives.
Which for us both concerned traveling.
She countered saying that one leaves behind a part of oneself wherever one has been and that one may never feel, truly feel as one did unless one can be in that environment.
Relying so heavily on pictures the other sense are dumbed and can’t be re-lived except by outside stimulus. Smell, touch etc.
And when one is no longer within reaching distances of those places where experiences were born it is difficult to ascertain whether they continue to make up a true part of the self, something that truly stays with one.
A has been in the same environment has the same friends that she’s had for 30 years. That I can’t comprehend, yet somehow wish I had. Now I am here I feel as though I am shipwrecked on an island, looking back out onto the sea for traces of my past. The future plays no part for me. I live in the past and the present the future is something I can’t comprehend, or have little faith in, at times that is. Building meaning frameworks, relationships here, formulating futures, which anchor me in Sweden.
So I joined a male synchronized swimming group.
First male group in Sweden since 1929.
A group of overweight unathletic men with a deep sense of irony and an eye for a grant from the idrotts forbundent.
Training camp in Estonia next year.
Is this the type of futures I yearn to build?
god leadbelly is god. tell me girl where did you sleep last night?
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
time has passed
id has had an eye infection,
and all has been put on hold as he can't really go out.
A. is busy at the univ and at work, which means i'm back in an apartment looking out
frustrating, and difficult to do anything except be with him
id in turn has been in pain, quite moaney. poor him.
i take it all but still am exhausted and a little frustrated.
saturday a rare day of movement
went to lina's exhibition
some really good stuff as always and we made sure we got there early
bought a piece for 2,500.
she ended up selling about 8 pieces in the vernissage only
then went and saw a terrific doc about a one class school somewhere in rural france
a real beauty of a film. filmed with such feeling.
all these fantastic small children and 'that' teacher
you know the one you always remember.
the darkness is closing in here
clocks go back in a couple of weeks
then its grin and bear it time
fuck
id has had an eye infection,
and all has been put on hold as he can't really go out.
A. is busy at the univ and at work, which means i'm back in an apartment looking out
frustrating, and difficult to do anything except be with him
id in turn has been in pain, quite moaney. poor him.
i take it all but still am exhausted and a little frustrated.
saturday a rare day of movement
went to lina's exhibition
some really good stuff as always and we made sure we got there early
bought a piece for 2,500.
she ended up selling about 8 pieces in the vernissage only
then went and saw a terrific doc about a one class school somewhere in rural france
a real beauty of a film. filmed with such feeling.
all these fantastic small children and 'that' teacher
you know the one you always remember.
the darkness is closing in here
clocks go back in a couple of weeks
then its grin and bear it time
fuck
Sunday, October 12, 2003
feel like a russian dog juggler
throwing too much up into the air
that i can't keep up
idi is sick. high fever
and i will stay at home with him for a couple of days.
means i have to call off a pile of things which i can't re-schedule
being with him is most important
but stress to push other things to move out of this impasse leaves me stressed
throwing too much up into the air
that i can't keep up
idi is sick. high fever
and i will stay at home with him for a couple of days.
means i have to call off a pile of things which i can't re-schedule
being with him is most important
but stress to push other things to move out of this impasse leaves me stressed
Saturday, October 11, 2003
autumn is in full colour.
weather is glorious here.
finding it easier to be with myself.
the rage that keeps surging has subsided somewhat
how long i have felt rage in my own company i am not sure.
something i have only just started admitting to others.
honesty to face this deep unrest inside me, helps i think
weather is glorious here.
finding it easier to be with myself.
the rage that keeps surging has subsided somewhat
how long i have felt rage in my own company i am not sure.
something i have only just started admitting to others.
honesty to face this deep unrest inside me, helps i think
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
tired.
my whole body is throbbing
sleep is never enough so i move around with a dull hangover of sleep deprivation
trying to do so much at one time that none of the holes i am digging get any deeper.
i turn my back to work on another only return to see minor landslides that come as the price of a lack of continuity and care
my whole body is throbbing
sleep is never enough so i move around with a dull hangover of sleep deprivation
trying to do so much at one time that none of the holes i am digging get any deeper.
i turn my back to work on another only return to see minor landslides that come as the price of a lack of continuity and care
