Sausage Joose

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I was depressed to be leaving Australia, but it's best to leave when you're having the time of your life. Memories stay more pristine that way.

The novelty of my living situation had nearly worn off as I sorted through the sausage-joose infused dishes towering in the sink. The illogical stack was almost artistic and I laughed as loogies slid from plates.

I think I volunteered to clean the kitchen because I knew I was the only one who would do it well enough to avoid a fee, but being vegetarian I don't usually have to deal with so much sausage joose.

This is a modern-art tree I snapped a picture of on a bush-walk.

It's as if all my roommates have been doing is burning sausage into pans and squeezing it over every single item in the kitchen. Liz (roommate 4), dealt with an emotional arch about the state of the kitchen, and had resorted to eating microwaved Easy-Mac MIXED WITH microwaved chicken ramen, using only our immense, stained and plastic bowl for almost every meal. On the rare occasion that meal did not comprise breakfast, lunch, or dinner, she went to unit 50 to cook in Taryn’s kitchen.

(Power Station)

In a stroke of good/bad luck Jack and I found a new set of pans by the side of the road, along with our new best friend the SUN HORSE (a giant empty corn-oil tub that emitted beautiful noises when struck). It was good luck because all of our pans have had their handles broken off by drunkards long ago, and burn one’s fingers every time they’re put to use, AKA every mealtime. It was good luck because now we won't be charged for breaking our pans. It was bad luck because we could only enjoy them for a few days, but in those few days Jake (Roommate 2) burnt popcorn and sausage into them.  

Me leaving the country

 By the time I was done cleaning caked sausage fat off of a shot glass, I'm pretty sure the novelty had completely worn off - just in time for me to split the country.

"This kitchen is so filthy, I'm leaving the country."

“The surf’s not great today, that’s it, I’m leaving the country.”

"Adhit, your puns are so bad, I'm leaving the country."

So I did. 

Business Card

If someone gave me a business card that said nothing but their name and the word/s: COYOTEKING I would most likely:
 
a) Punch them in the face and steal their identity
b) Strip off their poncho and take them then and there.
c) Walk backwards in slow-motion into the woods.
d) Invite them to go bushdancing.

Intro

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“I could use a freelance shaman such as yourself to guide me through the spirit realm when I get lost following blue-lantern-carrying gnomes.” These were the words Adhit played to initiate our relationship. When we first met we went skinny-dipping in the rain and ate bruschetta. When we last met we swam in the ocean and ate bruschetta.  

The last time we met was the last time we met. Driving on sunlit mountain roads we listened to Black Noise by Pantha Du Prince, and I was happy to think this insanely detailed sculpture of sound would become associated with such scenery – that and an earlier time, lying with towels over our heads, admiring the music’s visuals. It’s the kind of music that takes your layers of stress and woe and strips them away.

Arriving at Royal National Park we found no one to take our $12, and high-fived over the saved money for beer. The landscape made me feel as if I was in a dream, so now I can finally share a few pictures from my dreams.

Adhit has begun keeping a dream journal and talked about labyrinths, ice and water. I told him about a dream where he and I were swimming in a large clear pool at twilight. Before entering the water his towels were their usual blue, but afterward they had become inhabited by dolphins.

One of Adhit’s favorite albums is xx by The xx, he says it’s a perfect album and has a sexy and nocturnal atmosphere. The first time we hung out was the first time I heard The xx. The first time I visited him in Wollongong we listened to xx across starry skies and mountain Highways.

The first time I visited Adhit in Wollongong the stormy weather didn’t keep us from the ocean, although lifeguards and violent waves kicked us out of the water itself. This time, after a week and a morning of rain the sun broke through, just in time to make everything as clear and bright as I’ve ever seen. The waves at the beach were glass and broke perfectly. After the beach we had Swell coffee. Then we went to the beach. We almost went to the beach again after we went to the beach again, but then went to the Harbor.

In between making super-dad puns and reminiscing, Adhit and I spoke about how we had encapsulated a perfect relationship. When the end of a semester comes, everyone tends to feel nostalgic for a class, reflect positively on what was learned, and almost wish it wouldn’t end. Everyone signs up for classes knowing they’ll end, but people don’t tend to enter relationships that way. That’s the beauty of what Adhit and I shared, every time we met we made the most of it because we knew the day we would never see one another again was imminent.

In the evening Adhit’s mom made grilled eggplant with zaatar (that’s the name of the new kind of sauce) and we all shared beer. Although sleep would be ending at 7:30am, it did not begin until 2:30am. 

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As always, Adhit awoke me with perfect tea and breakfast. We listened to “Intro” by The xx as we hugged goodbye.

Café Jake

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There’s a line outside the door for Café Jake. Jake will come out, eyes blazing scarlet and say: “There’s a wait of five digoreedoos for the next table.”

At least that’s what Jack imagines when ze sees two people standing outside Jake’s room.

Nemesis Necklace

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I’m going to approach sleep deprivation and give it a "nemesis necklace," (a reference I got from Jack) because it’s my worst enemy. Whenever I get a migraine it’s after a poor night’s sleep. I’m hung over after shotty rest even if I haven’t had a thing to drink.

I slouched through the rain to get to the train and hung my tail between my legs for three hours and eight dollars to go surfing in Manly. Halfway through the two-hour bus ride of broken ipod, thoughts on the negative side of the coherence spectrum, and the positive side of the self-deprecation spectrum, I realized I could not see reality. This is because I have an extra-excitable visual cortex, and when a mysterious set of circumstances combine I get migraines.

My migraines have beautiful visuals. As my migraine expanded on the bus I took note of the colors and drew a picture of the vibrant vibrating blind spot. Migraines are painful and disorienting, but it’s boring to dwell on that alone. Now my migraines provide fodder for art instillation ideas.

Once I got to the beach I told the surf instructors that I couldn’t see properly and wouldn’t be able to surf. In the light grayness those friendly guys had piercing blue eyes. One jumped around saying: “Can you see me now?” We re-scheduled for the following Tuesday.

I promised myself I would get to sleep by midnight on Monday night. I keep getting caught in the undertow of time though, and in twenty minutes two hours will pass. As I made quesadillas with the rest of my capsicum, onion, beans, garlic, scallions, cheese, tortillas and salsa an audience from “Café Jake” filtered in with hungry scarlet eyes. Jack and I entertained them with our Dadaist commentary, and I fed them the rest of my groceries.

By the blazing sun of 8:00 am I was unsure of how I could transfer my surfing skills from the dreamtime to reality, but assumed coffee would help. On the amped bus I became consumed with joy and thought about how thankful I was for the heaps of offerings Australia had bestowed upon me. By the time I was practicing standing up on the board I realized that each time I stood I would come closer to passing out. I was a messy mixture of sleep-deprivation and dehydration and had to forsake my last surfing adventure. Once again I was a stinky dog, unwanted and vulgar, tail between my legs. Opportunity gone, day wasted.

By the time I was back on the endless hours of public transit I was less dizzy and tired of feeling wretched. I decided to stop feeling bad and wrote out ideas for several projects I’m working on. Sometimes I get so attached to perfection that I forget it’s subjective, and that I am always in control of how I react to things. I try so hard to be good, but there’s no good or bad. The truth isn’t a thing. In the evening Jack and I meditated.

Losing Consciousness

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I want to go to bed on fresh clean sheets with a good smell and stretch my legs and back so luxuriously before drifting into the pure deep light of sleep.

You can die while you're still alive. You can completely lose the person you've been from brain injury or disease. You can lose all your memories, or lose the ability to form new memories; your personality can dramatically change.

It scares me to think that the things that make me me can be taken away in an instant. It makes me feel sad that all my precious memories will one day be gone. If I were to die now I don't think I'd be cool enough to simply dissolve my energy into a rainbow and leave my organs as jewels or something. 

Death is probably messy and awkward. I imagine it being uncomfortable and disorienting, which is funny because up until now I had a more romanticized image of it. Ever since I've been aware of mortality I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, but recently, probably due to learning so much about dementia and traumatic brain injury, I've felt less at peace with the idea.

What can I do about it though? I’ve got to work on feeling less attached. I want to have a feeling like I'm a ball of light. Like it doesn't matter. 

Inherently Sad

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Jack and I saw Autoluminescent, a movie about Rowland S. Howard some time ago, and bonded over his attractive sadness. The pinnacle quote of the film for me, spoken by Rowland with a long-ashed cigarette hanging from his lips, was about how he couldn't fathom thinking about life as something other than inherently sad.

I've never been afraid of sadness. One of my talents is to go into it as deeply as possible, without hiding from any portion of the feeling. I've wept with such force that everything was the most beautiful it had ever been.

Jack is one of the first people I've met who will talk about sadness in the same way I do: as something that adds richness to life. People who aren't afraid of sadness can have a chique quality. They also tend to have the best senses of humor.

Now I'm Just Posting My Diary

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Too much fun too late at night.

Monday 14/11/11

* Spent the day in the music lab working on the coolest and most creative DJ set, with the best transitions in the world.

* It's that poignant end-of-the-semester time, especially since I won’t see my excellent professors, tutors, and internship supervisors again. Chris Walker said it was nice to meet me and I thanked him for his help over the semester. We chatted about music-neuroscience, and I left feeling sad that I won't be living in the music lab for very much longer.

Hair show elevator

* Ran into my black metal friend Christian at the train station. We shared a joyful hug and made plans to break into the pool late at night sometime soon.

Jack is a prince.

* I spent the rest of the day at the salon with Gen, who brought my hair back to its natural silvery-white color. Once again there was the poignant almost-the-end feeling. Gen said she would have to find a new muse once I left. I was touched.

* In the evening I did a small catwalk and reaped the free snacks and liquor.

* Jack and I decided we needed more snacks and liquor and went to Woolworth's. We had a walking picnic with white wine and an apple.

  

Tuesday 15/11/11

* Spent the day in the music lab working on the coolest and most creative DJ set, with the best transitions in the world.

Wednesday 16/11/11

* Spent the day in the music lab working on the coolest and most creative DJ set, with the best transitions in the world.

* Jack came over and we did fun stuff until too late.

Thursday 17/11/11

* Woke up with dark beasts for eyes.

* Had some coffee.

* Spent the day fine tuning the coolest and most creative DJ set with the best transitions in the world.

* Turned in DJ set.

* Spent night studying for neuroscience final, when I got bored with that I made a cake.