Friday, June 27, 2008

leaving the panopticon

so here i am, sitting on the green rug in the loungeroom, on the 12th floor. it’s early(ish) in the morning and i’ve just finished coffee and toast. i’ve been working on my essay - reading (and writing) about foucauldian concepts of governance. in particular, ‘the art of government’ as something that promises security and health in exchange for ongoing knowledge about individuals. a system in which we hand over our innermost thoughts (through participation in scientific, medical and other apparatuses) so that we can be governed – for security, for social wellbeing, and so that we too may be able to learn more about ourselves. and then a voice appears from nowhere. a calm male voice that is not impolite (he says excuse me) and tells me that they are about to test the fire and evacuation alarms in the building. i notice the white speaker on the roof in the hallway. it’s somewhat camouflaged, being the same colour as the paint surrounding it. the voice continues, repeatedly telling me “this is a test”. and then the alarms sound. the same alarms they occasionally test at uni, where again, a voice thrusts itself into the room i work in, advising me not to be alarmed, that “this is a test”. normally i’m not alarmed, just pissed off that the tones are so loud and disruptive. but today i think i am. it’s the foucauldian reading i’ve been doing all week. it’s the already tenuous feelings i have about staying here, in this panopticon where i am under constant surveillance. the cameras pointing at me in the courtyard, the mirror in the lift, and the immaculate but unused garden all remind me of this. as does the swiping of cards (at the gates, the doors, in the lifts). last night i noticed the black bubbles on the roof at the swimming pool. cameras collecting details and information that may be useful at some point, for some reason. even if it’s not information that’s used, it’s still gathered, and i’m still a subject of surveillance, which does affect me. like now, when i’m feeling particularly uneasy and having 1984 flashbacks.

“your attention please. the fire alarm testing is now complete. acknowledge all alarms”

today i’m leaving the panopticon to housesit for justine. i’m sure there’s a little less surveillance in that place. though i hear the neighbour downstairs likes to complain about the sound of people walking above. but that i can handle.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

smile you're in kensington

that's what is written on a sign in the middle of anzac parade. i pass by it a lot. i like it a lot. i'm sure, on the odd occasion, it has made me smile. a successful campaign? or just me.

i'm about to move out of my temporary waterloo residence into a temporary randwick residence. it will be good. though i have grown more attached to waterloo than i thought. i will miss the pool that's always relatively empty. i'll miss it's proximity to good food. though i like that i'll be able to discover more places soon, in my new postcode.

today is good. today i can breathe. i'm not rushing around like a maniac. nor am i feeling guilty for doing little study/work. though i will head to work shortly. just a short walk to my other desk, with other paperwork relating to other goals. i like my new workplace.

Monday, June 2, 2008

death to old words

i didn't much leave the house this weekend. only to accompany mark in his house-hunting. finding a house that i'm likely to spend a lot of time in, though it will not be mine. so i try to stand back and let mark find his place. it's difficult. but what was he thinking when considering the smelly place next to the train line with a pink and yellow room and shells in the toilet seat?

now he's been offered a place. and soon the box packing will begin.

monday: i'd normally be in sydney. but i stayed in newcastle and read about radical empiricism. amused that i was reading the work of michael jackson. the guy who founded phenomenological anthropology, not the moonwalk.

i finally put in my passport application. i lunched with vanessa. i held back from the obsessive sorting that swallowed my weekend.

on saturday night i forfeited a friend's party so i could sit on the loungeroom floor and tear up pages of horrible writing from many years ago. that was quite satisfying.


"Use, not logic, conditions belief" - Michael Jackson