Well we have performed all over the acreage of metropolitan Adelaide (and I kept thinking if I was in Zürich, I’d have probably made it to Germany, Leichtenstein, and almost to Italy for the distances we travelled while remaining in A-town). I have photos … soon. And stories. I’m feeling like after climbing a mountain, empty, unthinking.
But now back to writing grants. Boo! (Well, enough people said all the people i can remember sleeping with… should be a proper piece, so …)
I’m taking a short holiday from blogging. I’ve been writing almost constantly for the last couple of weeks, and most of March even, and have a couple more funding and residency applications to do this month, and … I don’t have much to say here. It’s all a bit boring really, get up eat breakfast walk to class dance (yay!) go home write eat write eat write eat stare at wall eye pain feelings of inadequacy shower sleep repeat.
Most of this week will involve occasionally staring at the housing commission flats a couple of streets north of here. I’ve settled myself in the lounge so working doesn’t feel so much like work. The unfortunate side-effect of being manacled to my laptop in a rather overwhelming couple of weeks of grant writing is that my body gets all screwed up, so when I go to dance, it’s like I’ve been in a car crash and my coordination is all murky and alien feeling.
So amidst four big (one finished, one mostly finished, one mostly started, one toyed with) applications due this week, and another five due by the end of April, none of which I’ll mention by name out of superstitious certainty I won’t be successful if I do … actually I’m not especially hopeful either way, I’m fairly sure the honeymoon is over, I’m no longer a bright emerging artist or enfant terrible, more like a geriatric mediocre with accompanying mid-career slump … what I meant to say is blogging will be slim.
I did get quite excited today when I discovered the State Library of Victoria has an original print of Robert Hooke’sMicrographia from 1665. The collection on the period of the Age of Reason and all my current favourite philosophers is quite substantial and … ja, so I say too much already, I’d love to spend three months at the library just reading these people, the privilege to share their world is something quite profound.
Gifts of chocolate, love, massages, shoes, or underwear from Agent Provocateur all appreciated.
I’m in what I fondly refer to as grant-writing hell. Somehow out of desperation I’m in the middle of six pending applications and another four loitering around the back of the bike shed. It’s been 10 hour days in front of my laptop all week and my eyes are completely blown apart, like the ones in Bladerunner. So, I’m not sure how much blogging is going to happen in the next few days, weeks, years. But the research is getting me all excited, Taoist Plague Demon rituals, creepy Eastern Alps pagan festivals, all the usual stuff.
Far too many of these excuses for not blogging in the last couple of months, and here’s another one, as always with a mitigating excuse. Having retired from applying for funding and all the hijinks and public humiliation that is grant writing back in June of this year, like an enfeebled alcoholic whose turpentine bladder displays a paucity of self-control, I’m at it again. I have this lurking suspicion were I to adopt a less timorous demeanour when it comes to begging for currency, viz. the nuclear brinksmanship of Kim Jong Il, I’d be rather less unemployed.
Until then, or sometime during this week when I learn important skills of non-vacillation blogging will be sparse. Oh, and I’m back in Adelaide for the week, sun, dance, bodies in vats.
