last night i saw a film at the red rattler about an intersex teenager living in uruguay.
then i went to the sly fox hotel.
a drag queen was performing on stage, but later revealed her breasts. and spoke about her 'plastic' vagina. a post-op trans woman performing drag, as a woman, to a crowd of mostly lesbians. it was a queer moment.
then she made a racist joke about young lebanese men stealing cars.
then a person from the audience took to the stage, and to the microphone, to highlight that this was a racist joke.
people cheered. a non-lebanese queer yells out "it's not only lebanese who steal cars", suggesting their own potential civil disobedience.
the drag performer gets defensive and slags off the rebuttal. she says that because she's greek she's not being 'racialist'. she makes a quip about it being like hey hey it's saturday.
a bunch of anarcho-queers line the front of the stage with their backs to her.
it's a bit hostile. and strange. and still very queer.
there are murmurings of a walk-out, hints of 'an action' being planned. someone tells someone who tells us about the walk-out. the queers leave, discretely, undefiantly. they probably had to finish their drinks.
today we're talking about nationalism in class and one student gets worked up about what 'we' give to aboriginal people - free education, housing, and everything. she suggests that black issues are still a problem in the US, but they're not here. it seems she's making a comparison between african-americans and aboriginal-australians. other students are looking uncomfortable. they're looking at me. i cut her off. another student starts asking her to justify her arguments. i cut him off too. i make a short statement about their being current and ongoing discrepancies in aboriginal health and... something, i can't remember exactly. a summation, in order to move back to where we were. i try and take the 'us/them' example to relate back to nationalism, and how this divide might be utilised in terms of race/gender and other difference. but she gets defensive. i assure her that i'm not referring to her, but to the ways in which we all speak (and indeed had been throughout the entire class) in terms of 'us' and 'them'.
she doesn't get it. it's uncomfortable. i'm losing my way. nobody has done the readings. i'm writing words on the whiteboard, but they may not make sense. a student jumps in and saves me, saying what i'm trying to, but with more clarity. but she still doesn't get it. she wants to talk about hey hey it's saturday.
i'm going now, to drink beer and play music trivia. if anyone mentions hey hey it's saturday, i might be compelled to slap them.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
swim therapy
the first few laps of the pool were awakening. my arms pushed forward, then down through the water, strenching along the length of my body. pursed lips push out air at a metered pace. unconsciously counting. my legs move up and down in a gentle sway. my head points downward, moving sideways every three strokes, to take in air. my body expands itself beyond itself.
towards the end of the swim i'm feeling my shoulders, as though heavy and water-logged. i'm hearing my breath. i'm slowing down, but ocassionally finding reserves of energy to push on. and i push on.
i sit in the steam room and my shoulders melt. my arms feel like they're no longer there. my lungs take in the heat. my pulse slows. sweat trickles down my chest, my face, my everything.
i walk back to the desk, some photocopying on the way, and the purchase of a sandwich. i feel upright, walking with ease, eyes meeting eyes. this feeling grants me departure from where i was this morning, when things seemed impossible, too much, as though another kick to my stomach.
it's late, but i think i can write something now. and mark some essays. and point myself towards tonight, my bed, and a nice long sleep.
towards the end of the swim i'm feeling my shoulders, as though heavy and water-logged. i'm hearing my breath. i'm slowing down, but ocassionally finding reserves of energy to push on. and i push on.
i sit in the steam room and my shoulders melt. my arms feel like they're no longer there. my lungs take in the heat. my pulse slows. sweat trickles down my chest, my face, my everything.
i walk back to the desk, some photocopying on the way, and the purchase of a sandwich. i feel upright, walking with ease, eyes meeting eyes. this feeling grants me departure from where i was this morning, when things seemed impossible, too much, as though another kick to my stomach.
it's late, but i think i can write something now. and mark some essays. and point myself towards tonight, my bed, and a nice long sleep.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
away then back
nice to be in my bed again. was hoping for an early night, but i've been reading in the bath, speaking on the phone, sending messages, and watching divinyls videos. like this one:
my family weekend left me disappointed. i don't want to talk about master chef. or football. or raising children and how boys are boys and girls are girls. "get. me out. of here".
then melbourne. it wasn't until day 3, my final day, that i felt happy. stupid of me to think i could leave my worries in sydney. i wear them in melbourne, like all places. my epidermis.
a week of seven virgos:
the 1st is my 1 year old nephew. upon meeting him, as though for the first time (given that we're now able to communicate), he puts his arms out, wanting to be held. strange, in comparison to his sister's ongoing suspicion and avoidance of me. so we bond on the first day. he points to things and i take him to those things. he picks leaves from trees and i discourage him from eating them. we like each other. my niece suggests that maybe he thinks that i'm his dad. he pulls funny faces to make people laugh. i like how my brother calls him a peanut.
2 virgos are people i sleep with. though their beds, their apartments, their bodies are not a comfortable fit. i'm still unsatisfied. i'm still not escaping.
2 virgos are present only in their absence. voids i fill with other men who are typically virgo.
virgo 6 is a friend with whom i confide in about most of the other virgos. we talk in small cafés, on the streets, and in a cinema foyer, where we discuss the politics of the power bottom whilst eating honeycomb choc-tops. later i watch him perform on stage.
virgo 7 presents himself as cheeky text messages asking for presents, feigning jealousy, joking about our marriage. on my last day, from a park bench at the state library, i speak with him for the first time.
i'm left with fond memories of the last day. the film and our shared laughter, conversations around food, coffee, wine. a dinner under fluorescent lighting. things that speak to me in ways that my family and rural victoria cannot. reminders that i have forged another world in which i'm comfortable. to an extent.
it seems there's an everlasting tension between my 2 worlds that render me bilingual. sometimes it feels good to speak with two tongues. but sometimes you're only reminded that some people can never understand certain aspects of you. so you don't even bother trying. instead, you present the half as the whole. within one realm i cannot speak freely of the other. arguably there are more than 2 realms. at this moment i'm aware of the two, their distinctions, and how they each have the power to render me incomprehensible.
my family weekend left me disappointed. i don't want to talk about master chef. or football. or raising children and how boys are boys and girls are girls. "get. me out. of here".
then melbourne. it wasn't until day 3, my final day, that i felt happy. stupid of me to think i could leave my worries in sydney. i wear them in melbourne, like all places. my epidermis.
a week of seven virgos:
the 1st is my 1 year old nephew. upon meeting him, as though for the first time (given that we're now able to communicate), he puts his arms out, wanting to be held. strange, in comparison to his sister's ongoing suspicion and avoidance of me. so we bond on the first day. he points to things and i take him to those things. he picks leaves from trees and i discourage him from eating them. we like each other. my niece suggests that maybe he thinks that i'm his dad. he pulls funny faces to make people laugh. i like how my brother calls him a peanut.
2 virgos are people i sleep with. though their beds, their apartments, their bodies are not a comfortable fit. i'm still unsatisfied. i'm still not escaping.
2 virgos are present only in their absence. voids i fill with other men who are typically virgo.
virgo 6 is a friend with whom i confide in about most of the other virgos. we talk in small cafés, on the streets, and in a cinema foyer, where we discuss the politics of the power bottom whilst eating honeycomb choc-tops. later i watch him perform on stage.
virgo 7 presents himself as cheeky text messages asking for presents, feigning jealousy, joking about our marriage. on my last day, from a park bench at the state library, i speak with him for the first time.
i'm left with fond memories of the last day. the film and our shared laughter, conversations around food, coffee, wine. a dinner under fluorescent lighting. things that speak to me in ways that my family and rural victoria cannot. reminders that i have forged another world in which i'm comfortable. to an extent.
it seems there's an everlasting tension between my 2 worlds that render me bilingual. sometimes it feels good to speak with two tongues. but sometimes you're only reminded that some people can never understand certain aspects of you. so you don't even bother trying. instead, you present the half as the whole. within one realm i cannot speak freely of the other. arguably there are more than 2 realms. at this moment i'm aware of the two, their distinctions, and how they each have the power to render me incomprehensible.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
being summonsed
after yesterday's emailing with supervisors, they want a face-to-face meeting as soon as i'm back from melbourne. hmm... i don't know what to make of this. i think it could one of the following:
a) they think i'm crazy / not coping
b) one of them wants to bow out
c) they want to make sure i will show up for my review
d) they want to counsel me through 'my issues'
e) all of the above
i think i'll do some more writing and reply later. the chapter is actually coming along okay, though will not be complete by thursday. i'm having fantasies of it being beyond brilliant and making them fall over themselves, realising that i do have a sense of what i'm doing. as usual, such fantasy keeps me going.
an excerpt from my email of yesterday (about as close as i got to saying 'fuck you'):
I'm tired and in need of a break, hence the trip to Melbourne where I can be with friends and family, refresh, and gain perspective. I'm not offering this as an excuse, but sharing it because this is where my priority lies (in my health and relationships, not my thesis), and therefore this impacts upon my 'output'...
can't wait til friday, victoria, the house by the beach.
a) they think i'm crazy / not coping
b) one of them wants to bow out
c) they want to make sure i will show up for my review
d) they want to counsel me through 'my issues'
e) all of the above
i think i'll do some more writing and reply later. the chapter is actually coming along okay, though will not be complete by thursday. i'm having fantasies of it being beyond brilliant and making them fall over themselves, realising that i do have a sense of what i'm doing. as usual, such fantasy keeps me going.
an excerpt from my email of yesterday (about as close as i got to saying 'fuck you'):
I'm tired and in need of a break, hence the trip to Melbourne where I can be with friends and family, refresh, and gain perspective. I'm not offering this as an excuse, but sharing it because this is where my priority lies (in my health and relationships, not my thesis), and therefore this impacts upon my 'output'...
can't wait til friday, victoria, the house by the beach.
Monday, September 28, 2009
i want a divorce
i feel kind kinda knotted at the moment. caffeinated, tired (exhausted even), and wanting to cry or scream or both.
my supervisors keep wanting me to write for them. i don't write for them, i write for me. i want to tell them to fuck off.
yesterday morning, in bed, i wrote a zine. see, i'm productive. but i don't produce for them. and that's the problem. they think i'm difficult. i am difficult. but they don't like that. fuck them.
grr... i had such plans today to write, to make headway into this chapter which is thus far only a bunch of notes and thoughts churning away inside me. and this is what they want. but now they've contributed to my angst. my paralysis set off by their guilt-inducing emails.
i just composed a response and read over it several times to tone down my angst. i told them i'm tired. i wanted to say "leave me the fuck alone".
supervision and me are incompatible. i make zines. and words. and things. and none of this needs supervision. well it hasn't so far. and i don't care if it's judged to be no good. if it makes me feel good then it's good. like my writings, my friends, the things i do.
this may not make sense. bah.
my supervisors keep wanting me to write for them. i don't write for them, i write for me. i want to tell them to fuck off.
yesterday morning, in bed, i wrote a zine. see, i'm productive. but i don't produce for them. and that's the problem. they think i'm difficult. i am difficult. but they don't like that. fuck them.
grr... i had such plans today to write, to make headway into this chapter which is thus far only a bunch of notes and thoughts churning away inside me. and this is what they want. but now they've contributed to my angst. my paralysis set off by their guilt-inducing emails.
i just composed a response and read over it several times to tone down my angst. i told them i'm tired. i wanted to say "leave me the fuck alone".
supervision and me are incompatible. i make zines. and words. and things. and none of this needs supervision. well it hasn't so far. and i don't care if it's judged to be no good. if it makes me feel good then it's good. like my writings, my friends, the things i do.
this may not make sense. bah.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
108 steps of boredom
thursday and i'm tired and it's dark. just finished teaching, feeling all abuzz, workshopping my performance in my head as i climb the stairs from the quad to the library. a guy next to me grumbles: "too many stairs. 108." i'm impressed that he has counted them - the stairs i climb on most days. he tells me it's due to boredom.
it's a nice interruption to my thoughts. we part ways. i climb more stairs towards my desk. i count 43. that's 151 steps on my journey to this desk, chair, computer, headspace.
is each one a step or a stair? it seems it's a step, a stair being the entire block of steps. well that's what one dictionary tells me. and now i can't remember if he said steps or stairs. i may have misquoted. ah, technicalities. it's been an afternoon of those.
we talked about religions: islamic, christian and jewish. too much time spent on clarifying distinctions between them. and then a slightly dodgy discussion on Islamic 'veiling' practices. and then time was up before i fully redeemed the conversation. or maybe that's not my job anyway. sigh. why the fuck am i teaching this, stressing about this, reading up on this? i sometimes forget i'm just a lowly tutor. give me my money so i can go and get pissed. oh yeah, i'm supposed to be writing a thesis. all the more reason to get pissed.
and now i have 2 weeks without classes and readings and marking. 2 weeks of thesis-only, of making up for the last 3 weeks of not writing very much. it all starts tomorrow. 151 steps a day.
it's a nice interruption to my thoughts. we part ways. i climb more stairs towards my desk. i count 43. that's 151 steps on my journey to this desk, chair, computer, headspace.
is each one a step or a stair? it seems it's a step, a stair being the entire block of steps. well that's what one dictionary tells me. and now i can't remember if he said steps or stairs. i may have misquoted. ah, technicalities. it's been an afternoon of those.
we talked about religions: islamic, christian and jewish. too much time spent on clarifying distinctions between them. and then a slightly dodgy discussion on Islamic 'veiling' practices. and then time was up before i fully redeemed the conversation. or maybe that's not my job anyway. sigh. why the fuck am i teaching this, stressing about this, reading up on this? i sometimes forget i'm just a lowly tutor. give me my money so i can go and get pissed. oh yeah, i'm supposed to be writing a thesis. all the more reason to get pissed.
and now i have 2 weeks without classes and readings and marking. 2 weeks of thesis-only, of making up for the last 3 weeks of not writing very much. it all starts tomorrow. 151 steps a day.
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