Hurtling Through Space: an excerpt from a parting letter

This is a picture Jack took of me with a long exposure and a zoom lens

The event of our parting made me think about permanence and impermanence, and permanence within impermanence. I thought about death, but mostly I thought about how magnetic and beautiful you are, and how our fleeting interactions in our fleeting lives are sweet and vulnerable. I feel I've been condemned to love and happiness.

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.

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.

Conversations

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There comes a point where it would simply be a lie to not kiss someone. When that wave arrives conversation is swept into an undertow. I always think the conversation will be picked up again but the need for words is transferred into the need for soft delicious touch.

Illiterate in Real-World

When the monotenous myopic tasks of an intern span an eight hour day, it makes the intern illiterate in real-world. All an intern would need to do to get home and make some dinner would be to bend space-time and just ride a warped wave down the sidewalk.

 After a day-to-day day though, one doesn't  want the day-to-day. All the energy that was in the eyes wants to re-join the rest of the body. The scrutiny on the tiniest meaning wants to stop analyzing at all costs.

A good remedy would be to use telekinesis to lift the birds of paradise, and use them to smash car windows. this would be done with no malice or joy, but a neutrality backed by extreme energy and efficiency.

Another great thing to do would be to pick up a fat white duck and say yell: "I always wanted to pick up a duck!"

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I attribute this video to my desire to smash car windows with a flower.  A favorite teacher of mine in high school, Alain Antoine, linked me to this.

Ask Us Anything!

At orientations and informative sessions, people tend to over-guarantee how much they would love to help you. In the past two days, I've heard phrases like: "Just ask the RA/lifeguard/student adviser if you have any questions or concerns about ANYTHING, I mean ANYTHING!" About 7 times.

"Student counseling services, how may I help you?" - "Hi, Can I borrow like, 5 dollars to cover bus fare?"

Water Under a Bridge on a Duck's Back

     Jeremy reached the bottom of the "U Curve" (see fig. 1) and wanted to see Harry Potter. When I heard this second hand I said: "Oh, well we should go then," but put no further effort into it. One flatmate (#4), Liz from Boston, announced she would make us pasta, so after I checked internet in the rain I came home expecting a family dinner, but instead no one was home. I made a snack of miso with scallions, shitake mushrooms and chili sauce with buttered toast and watched Australia's Top Chef. which is unlike American reality TV because every contestant is polite and says nice things about their opponents. Then I went to sleep at 10:00 pm.

    The next day I spent some walking in the rain, acquiring a student ID, adding money to the ID account, and printing out resumes so I could have a competitive edge in the barista field. By the time we met up with Joanna, our moral support/activities adviser, I looked like I'd been swimming in my pea-coat.

Noticing the state of the students Joanna offered: "I know it seems depressing because there is no one here and its raining heaps, but it will get better." She talked up some of the activities we can chose from this semester, saying she hates worms and is claustrophobic, but will take students on a tour of caves with glowworms and reckons it will be awesome.

We have bonded in the past so she referenced me having good style and DJ skills, and how I'm her "Indie Kid" of the semester. She likes the Knife and comprehends how much I differ from the group. When I first met her she questioned: "Why are you in Australia? Mostly I get big university blokes who want to meet a crocodile dundee" I basically told her it was an arbitrary decision, then wondered if I had made the right choice.

     Jeremy approached me after the meeting,  asking about how I was going to Sydney just then, so I invited her along. I had figured out a route beforehand, but she thought the bus would be cheaper than the train, so we deliberated over a new route, eating up about a half an hour. Sydney presented us with fantastic architecture and lots of cool friendly people, none of which I took pictures of. We shared her umbrella, found a free shuttle, and got on it right away despite my second guessing the direction it was headed, which turned out to be more like a first guess because we were headed the wrong way.

    We made it to the salon I was modeling for eventually with the addition of a new stylish and guileless umbrella. People with cool haircuts served us fine tea and biscuits, one of them stroking my hair to figure out what she would like to do with it.

Afterward we ate at a place called "Sugarcane" which had a modern interior with organic shaped light fixtures on pale gray walls, a tiled counter in different shades of green, and completely stainless steel kitchen (I'm mentioning this because I forgot my camera). I had a thai chili dish with perfectly fried eggplant for $12, which was a good deal considering that you're not supposed to tip in Australia. 

(An incredibly classy photo of my new umbrella and I )

    Sydney is unlike New York because if you look confused people go out of their way to help you rather than calling you an asshole. Our waiter pulled out his laptop to find the bar we were meeting Jeremy's friends at in spite of a busy restaurant.

    Between compulsively asking for directions of every passerby, despite my direction following confidence, Jeremy complained about how she hates Macquaire and wants to transfer to U Sydney, where all the cooler kids who we made friends with went. I sympathized and added comments of: "Yeah."

 She is trying to transfer, but Joanna is trying to convince her otherwise, using me as bait. That made me think: "Oh, well maybe I could transfer." The lack of applicable classes at U Syd pails in comparison to how nice it is there, grassy lawns and old-school architecture in the heart of a beautiful city, but then Jeremy mentioned that there's a $2,000 penalty from Butler for leaving the school you enrolled in, plus another couple thousand to enroll at another school late and secure housing. I didn't realize anyone else was disappointed with Macquarie's location or aesthetics, but by the 23rd or so time the point was reiterated I didn't feel that way myself anymore.

     Luckily, after Jeremy's friends were found I ran into a few of my U Syd friends, and keeping with a tradition established during orientation, Shane Trujillo gave me 3/4 of the beer he didn't like. I had a nice time chatting with another friend Grant, who is ironically fulfilling his American Studies major requirements while abroad. He likes Fitzgerald's cake-like writing style, while I favor the minimalism of Hemingway.

Around 11:00 pm, when it was really getting fun and my friends were tearing up the dance floor we had to leave to catch the train. Or at least I thought that was the plan, Jeremy followed her friends to another bar. Once we got there and it was too loud I suggested we make sure we catch the train, which we didn't do - we had missed the last one.

    Jeremy hailed a cab to take us to Central Station, where apparently there was still one more train. She was on the phone so I paid the $14. I was taking in my surroundings to figure out how to get to platform 16 when Jeremy started running, I figured she knew where we were going and followed her - she didn't know where she was going. We ran back the way we came and I couldn't keep up so we missed the last train at by 3 minutes, and got a cab back to the city. Through all of this I listened to her swearing and saying: "of course" to every obstacle encountered feeling calm and content.

I was happy to be in a new city figuring things out. It could have been a lot worse, someone could have lost a tooth! However, losing a tooth is far from the worst thing that could happen, just ask me! Being a prisoner of war for instance, would heartily suck, and there are things people go through that are much worse than that. Jeremy's desire for flawlessness made me reflect on my own perfectionist tendencies and realize that I have become more accepting. It's all just water under a bridge on a duck's back.

    Back at the bar at just after 12:30, the friend I was staying with was having a nice time drinking so I hung around like a sleepy ghost, making friends with an International Relations major from Costa Rica. Everyone was daring me to do a shot, but its about $8 a shot in Aus. In the end I asked the bartender about vegan options and he gave me a shot of Tanqueray with peach and lychee while everyone else had something blue that fizzed. I was about to pay when I realized the bill was settled, and everyone was too drunk to realize I hadn't pitched. Making change is too complicated with big bills, so I accepted the gift unwittingly bestowed upon me.

Shortly after the shots we left, bought some pastries, warned a couple of drunkards that the cops were after them, and went back to the cold dorms. My nice friend gave me her bed even though I should have been the one sleeping on the floor. She took her comforter and pillow and I slept under a sheet and my wet jacket (I don't think I've mentioned this, but there are no heaters in Australian student housing).

     I woke up bolt upright at 9:00, realizing I had forgotten about an internship interview at 11:00, thanked my friend, and hurried back to the train station, where trains were running late due to wet weather. I had my flatmate look up the number to call to inform them I would be running late, but it was the wrong number. Then I arrived ten minutes early.

 Luckily I was wearing a smart interview outfit, because all I wear these days are button down shirts. It happened to be one of the best interviews I've ever had, and I left feeling high in self confidence. Riding that momentum I found a coffee shop that was hiring, and had a nice cappuccino with a fern pattern, so if I get a job there hopefully I'll learn that trick. The moral of this long winded fable is that its easy to ride momentum, you just have to do it in style.