| up north 6 part 2 - 1981 january | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
5 January 1981 Keep waking before alarm, 3, 4, 5 o'clock. Stretched on floor in a room I don't look at. The light's been out for long. This morning walk out of the house, see other people at bus stops, into lighted rooms without persons, bag heavy from cork boots. No dawn color, it's damprot season. Jim is just arriving, is he irritated. Told to shovel mud out of corners of the excavation I'm weak and offended, he's telling me to shovel mud? It's my job. Move the shovel feebly. They build forms. I carry 2x4s, throw them through the window into the basement. The 2x6s were wet, slipped, soaked my handkerchief in my pocket. Smashed the alarm clock throwing a 2x4. They forgot my coffee break. I had to offer them something from the store when it had got hard to move. They didn't notice it was lunch time until nearly one and then left me out of theirs. Feeling of disgrace. "You can hack these 2x4s? Jeem say we should get somebody else but I think you're doing fine." I can't understand both their accents. I'm always having to repeat their orders stupidly to make sure I heard right. The lumber delivery truck backed into the trench I'd cleared. Why am I here labouring instead of somewhere being skilled. Ritter's voice. Disgrace last night. Want to leave, live alone somewhere, not be known. Going silently through the day, they don't think I'm human. I miss being addressed and being part of the plans. "You can pound some nails." Until I'm called down to throw mud against the outside of the footings. "You have boots, you do in there." He's sending me into the water? It is hard for them and me, goes against us, we act as if it's alright, that's law. Women going by on the sidewalk stare. The ugly girl behind the glass over the fence. I hate her, she's home all day with the radio on. There's no personal gaze. Going home Ted - Valerí - is nice about the attic. Walking from the bus thinking about drowning and other ways of stopping. In Lessing when he went into the river. - Little white cat on the pan of food. She's looking. I say I think of it as a spirit not an animal. Then think why they've sent this little spirit. Not the tall boy. Is it Luke's mind. No. Frantically searching for British Rail number. He's been here for the weekend and Monday, but he's saying next Monday they're going to - and --- won't allow me to come. The children at daycare have red spots on their backs. Bedsheet wrinkles blue shadows faded maybe green flowers at first not seen hangs and blows. Shadows. Does it belly forward into shadow. Shadow runs across. Across the street from basement cleaning the boards. See the film sheet, put into some other picture (another) so there's a heaving. Its slight shadow in wide fast moving areas. Lunch. Cigarettes (sun) layers curls under. Thinking that's how air always is (tracers). Demetriou's voice and comic head. Boss freedom. Ianni's karate dance on long legs. 7 Five. Lying on the floor with the light on dreaming. Tea. Peel apple, banana, two tangerines, milk. Rilke and Tulku sentences a way of being in and talking about inside of body. Sentences seemed dead last night. I could write the sense I had with them, nearly each phrase was revelation. Go into mist, walk up wanting to look in windows, happy. They're already tearing off forms, the footings standing smooth square and steaming. Don't have no body to call my own. My little Percy came upstairs when I sang that back. Working with Th-thor - I helping build forms, humanly directed and acknowledged. Carrying planks. Like yesterday pouring concrete using my foot to channel. Body's finding ways to unusual balances and holds, I am perched in it with pleasure. It invents. 8 Less time in the morning and not enough to be as it was yesterday, J-V's letter, and to be answered, in pocket for lunch - brawl tonight is in the way - fantasy of us three in lunch hour going to a motel, stopped then, when told it felt clearer but I'm as if not willing to care or else don't - only that she agrees she's getting better looking and I worse, done a lot of hard work, confessing I'm worried about hormones, femininity leaving. Lost the energy of the day, this morning hammering, alone in the upstairs grumbling about 'them', watching my clumsiness, 'cheerfulness', the way their confusion makes me vulnerable because I like to please. Blundering. They shout at each other. What did we going into. Frustration hitting. Got launched out into a turbine, mush brain, no view, react. Last winter. - A young man. We only have four hours to sleep before some dawn adventure. He sends me away to bed. Passing another man on the next floor I'm aware of showing myself as if I'd like him to invite me, but he's older and not one I think I want. I am continuing up the last stairs to my room, I'm going to touch myself, I think, but the stairs don't continue. The last half is blank. Wake with the thought of going to touch myself but I can't, I'm with you. Heavy and desperate because it's there, I think because of you, but coming from men. It is really desperate and not loving. What can be done. Do you think you can put your finger in me. New Year Day sun, misted windows in front of blue disordered beating but it works. I watch to see if it's degrading us. Can't tell, only that I'm somewhat false because I don't want to be what it is. Boca.
Stems corridors. Sense in dictionary writing of the showing of inclusions / companions / glances in words, as they've been unconscious from long. Plum/p. It's freeing what's in the word. Sense of the other words loosening out. Does that show. Is it true. Unit detaching. Movie mo vie. Plump-p.
Banyan's mood is excited ambition. The man telling about the lord, showing paintings on brilliant white base of a paradise with small elephants and an earth hovering over grass. In back of this writing there's an unpleasant voice/posture suggesting itself. 'Lyrical.' The broken line that has pull: why. Reading in Ban yan what I wanted to buy was times in new surrounding. Dilated watching time. Surrounded. Broken line if parts come with pauses. What's wrong with the feel of it read after. Are the pauses not correct. If parts come with pauses they aren't yet correct. His paintings. What he said about himself, the idea of being inspired trusting believing. Love pictures, making them freely. Was arguing that my pictures already look like that. The ugly Buddhist illustrations. What does visual conscience have from 'Christian'. No the Chinese inks' more heavenly world. But it made him think to be honest in rendering, he'd developed unconscious tricks to hide what he didn't know how to do. In blue pages. Watch. Getting used to a formation. Yellow screen back projected [sketch] sweep focus. "She's lighter." 19 Dark before 7. I hear the radio without it being turned on. In my backroom with summer's journal quite rapt. Find the sorts of work. Felt like paradise. Typing from. Grotkowsky. She's early in the next room. Meeting in the kitchen. Whirl round, rush out and bang in the bathroom door. She brings toast. It's time to go to the library. At the bus stop we're standing for our portrait. The orange silk shirt. In the bus, the love around the two sides touching, temperature, softness of overlap. We come to where we can see the beach. A new sort of mist, solid curved over a w.v. hill and the city with a colorlessness flatness. What are we talking about, so the library stop interrupts. Find - try - the jellyfish in Xerox. Black granite skymap with Einstein (Wash DC). Analemma. Looking for Plato's universe drop down behind the shelf because it's silvery Rhoda. Looking at the strange people I cross paths with and some of them look too. Vanessa Redgrave's shaved head. Buy cherry jam, almonds, oat flakes, black current juice at Galloway's. Separate at the bus stop. And there at 4th is Rhoda, papers loose, bus 4 comes and I beat someone, who turns and speaks in English accent. "You were in the library together?" Nod. Sound, voice, what's been written about it. Getting through the meeting. "Oh I'm going to see Cheryl." "How's Jam doing?" "I don't know if I'm the person to ask that. I think she's doing fine but there are others who don't think so." "I'll take your word for it." She [Cheryl] isn't first glad to see me. Small small. Coffee. Whiskey? She smokes hash. I see the tree's shadow on the fridge. About music. She puts on Bach cello, Ravi Shankar, koto, Vivaldi, and then something symphonic. Anxious. And then the last minute looking at the floor. Pictures on the sheet, slides of them all. She has suddenly invited me to read during her show, or something else. I'm excited seeing the images. They don't have anything visual in them. She has a good imagination for play. The taktak tabla. Roy's koto and the next ten years. Getting films by teaching: it's very competitive. I bridled and then shut up. How is she. (She was pretty.) - gates of the forehead
- Film material
The right brain got meaning but not the word. unaware that his silent half had seen the furnace Nonverbally encoded (the figuring out was of both and so it was lame) I'm bombarded by such a profusion of fantasies.
The air and water creatures Models of movement and connection [logic notes not transcribed] Can I. It's your suspended. What love affairs. Her and her. In order to meet the needs of her husband the wife must realize what these needs are. A man has several basic needs, the greatest being his need for admiration. He desires admiration for his physical body, his achievements, his abilities, his spiritual qualities, and his personality. If his wife does not supply his need for admiration he will get it elsewhere, legitimately or otherwise. Another need he has is for acceptance, total and complete acceptance of himself as a person. Full acceptance sets a man free and gives him the confidence he needs in his work. Joyce Marie Smith Fulfillment There's the head, yours, with its line from the back straight through the eyes.
archist In bed. Instant coffee. The woman who danced for her guards and then shot one before she was shot down. Trying to see what she was and they were, as experience, and so whether a christian would have been different. Heart's desire and Le Guin. Couldn't stay with it. Was racing and if I tried to turn around, a sort of flustered noncontent with still the intention in it (is that brain and muscle, and is that a couple).
From in: any action's possible. Is that so - killing the friend - if you loved the enemy at the moment he was about to kill you you'd be thinking either that you'd soon come again or that it was personally superior not to resist your death. If you actually loved the enemy it would mean you were feeling his being, you were steadily feeling him exactly. That would mean, you were adding yourself to him, not because instructed to but because you wanted that sort of experience. 23
Imagining a disillusioning sight. - Come to the landing, throw down my belongs. One shoe misses shore drops just into water. I am a long time reaching into holes on land and in water looking for that one. Three landed on the bank. I found one of them in a hole. Thought I had both mine and the lost one was a child's, but I see both the child shoes are there and must go on diving with my hand. A garden that although on a steep slope hadn't dried out, was mudholes water running off, seeping through a soil filter and ran off as clear stream, but stood as mudholes. I told someone it could never germinate it's been too cold and wet. Seems a body dream. Moving around in this summer's journal work I feel a (color) paradise faintly as if right and back.
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