i dreamed i was in this class led my an ancient history teacher and glynne greg and kit were ther ein the class to, anyway
part of the class, they were going to remove people's skulls from their heads
and becaue they judged i had a very fine example of a skullthey removed my skull form my head
but my consciousness stayed in my skul while they passed it round, and
tey made comparison between my skull and the queen's skull as fine examples then said like "unlike this marmoset skull" or "unlike this half rambutan" or seomething liek that
but all ic ould think about was how you were coming soon to meet us for dinner, and you were going to arrove before they had a chance to put my skull back into my head
actuall yithink my consciousness was put aside for sakekeeping
so i kept thinking how my head would be this squishy hairy floppy sack hanging off my neck wih no skull/structure
and in fact while i was busy talking to someone i kinda forgot that i was disembodied, and boddy was ina chair in next roomw aiting for skull to be put back coz i was yakking away to glynne or someone
and i heard your car but sort of didnt realise
and next thing i knew you came in and i realised you'd been there to see the proces of my skull being squished back into my head and set up again
which i myself hadnt seen
and which the teacher had asked me to do myself, and when i said i didnt know how, he said "neither do i, really" but went off to do it
anyway then i was talking to you and when i realised you had seen them squishing it back in to the floppy headsack i was imagigin i was so horified
but then i was distracted because your skin was all dry and you had a bushy red beard and red hair that stuck up on your head
and you were really pale.
and i told you i didnt mind.
it was so so horible.

EASIER THIS WAY - THROUGH LETTERS. ONE from and then one TO MY PADRE:


Helu!

Thanks for your email below and your poetic txt message on wordsworthaquidatleast, hedged bets, and deceased bovine patriots.


More please - of fluro and blue / green domiciles.

Kit told me about your crisis of identity - DON'T PANIC - identity is fluid. Esp if yr not travelling soon. Let me know if I can help.

Good that Skype is working - in theory you and I cld attempt this down stream, time differences permitting. I have the gear at work I think.

Some snippets from a continuing antipodean existence:

- heatwave at present - 32 degrees tomorrow. May need to bring the fat lil ones in from the sauna.

- just saw a 2006 film on Cable with Steve Coogan called The Alibi, American film, but quite witty.

- your sketch sits on my mini-desk and is a beacon shining light on all that lies just beyond our grasp.

- am reading Oscar Levant's autobiography [his real one, not one I made up] - "Memoirs of an Amnesiac". Great title. He begins with a long honest rave about his obsessive / compulsive behaviour. I shall do a film treatment.

- Listening to Robert Fripp's 1977 masterpiece, Exposure, and much else.

- Kit and I watched Soldier of Orange Sunday night. Part 2. A promising Krabbe on Rutger moment disturbed by the arrival of a man from Prufrock. [Coleridge moment.]

- The ABC Bookshow is doing Moby-Dick this week. Shan't watch it. THe Spectrum For / Against was also on M-D this or last week I think.

- Puppies are pretty happy, all in all. Pigs bawl for their slaves. [Brecht moment.]

- Kit and I watched a halfway cute Cary Grant / Ingrid Bergman romance last week. Very stagey, but articulate. "Character driven". Called Indiscreet. Great Title.

- Tom Cruise is set to play Borges in a bio of his early career, "Young Jorge". The Library sequences will be done at Fisher. A first-ever Argentinian - Australian co-production. [In an alternate version, for DVD release only, the exhumed Borges plays himself. Johhny Depp to play Borges's muse, Sue-Ann. Tim Burton to direct that one.]

Must go - puppy whaling time. Er, walking.

And enough of me. Et tu?

Dabdil
xxx


IN REPLY:
SASSlmo
to Rob
More options 07:55 (0 minutes ago)
I copped some serious wit there. Thanks for the email. You would be
lost in the bookshops in this one-horse-many-college town. The one
right next to trinity, Heffers, is immense. A sad lack of cows,
though. The Cambridge Uni Press bookshop is dauntingly content-full. I
saw at least 18 books I should read, each priced at £18. Time to
discover libraries. Speaking of Borges. Yeah he'd be right at home.
This evening in the bookshop, or perhaps the supermarket, i thought of
a one-off line, which went "I sing the humble _____" but what the ____
was i can't for my life remember. Wit's whittlings lost. What else? I
try to make a point of doing one idiotic thing each day. Today, I left
the bath running over. Yesterday, I misplaced my passport. Both
situations were salvaged - luckily. Why do they let me out? Anyway I'm
doing OK today. Yesterday I was slightly hysterical for a few minutes
and thinking I should never have come. Met a nice German girl (who I
could have sworn was American) in the kitchenette today. We got
chatting, such that I had to remicrowave my food twice. It was quite
amusing. We mutually contemplated, and rejected, the idea of joining
the welcoming Pub Crawl.
The sheer number of vomitting firstyear girls in crotch-length lycra
skirts on the streets is truly incredible. A blonde apocalypse.
I rattled off this poem in response to my feeling of lost-ness in the
midst of administrative mess and quadrangles with no names or signage
and where every tiny littl eproblem requires you to trek to a
different department:
===
the uni said 'let me mother, let me mother'
said 'suck my stone breasts'
but the hard paps are cold, and as unyielding
as male nipples. the steep taste
of life in the deep unadministrative womb
of the sprawling stone beast
starts to daunt. daunt, daunt,
i hover haunted by the sense
of obligationdeadlines creeping up on me
quick as ghosts behind the collonades,
as we keep off the grass.
==
Now as for actually doing anything academic or intelligent, I'm afraid
I have little to report. Dread little. Though you'll be excited to
know that I was speaking to a cab driver in Singapore, who was able to
tell me that UNSW Asia was back on the cards thanks to Singapore govt
funding. Is this true? Why hadn't I heard?
I can see myself working out how to get on this way, but I feel I am
going to put my foot in it a few times each week, and I definitely
need to practise this time management thing a bit more carefully. I
made myself a to-do list today, mapping out various commitments, it
made me feel a bit better. Endless forms and things to remember. I had
an experience of peculiar transport today as I entered the library off
Nevile's court and wound my way up the stairs to these unexpected
great doors past unexpected marble busts into an unexpected high huge
hall where I had to coldly step down the black and white tiles watched
by cool librarian eyes from between the ancient vellum-laden shelves
to the huge desk where I was to sign my name in the BOOK and so
matriculate. Then I trickled away.
Thinking of you each day and hoping you're getting on well. Hello to
all the critters. Pat Kit on the head for me and say "nice sheepy.
nice sheepy. ba-a-a-a." Eat more golf balls and bowling clubs. And
your Tom Cruise vision is one of your best yet.
Kit really appreciated your enjoyment of Soldjaat van Oranje.
I have no TV. I wish I felt this making me more productive.
It was rather wonderful, when my passport was returned to me, I was
expecting nothing of the sort, sitting at about 10 PM at this desk
with my computer blaring music, beneath which I thought I heard a
knocking. I thought maybe the music was bugging a neighbour. Turned it
down. Heard the knock again. Went to the door. Rotund Mr Plod-like
portly man in a bowler's hat. "Lost your passport miss?" "Oh, yeah-! I
did!" --hope bursting forth in my voice. He made no verbal reply, but
wordlessly presented the passport. "Oh thankyou so much---" I ran on,
thinking, Aaaaw, can I keep him?
Warrell my pet pigeon has not been around today, I'm worried he's left
me. They have strung fake hawks between the buildings here which blow
in the wind, designed to scare pigeons off, but they look like Art.
Lots and lots of love, and big hugs, and bzzz-ing of foreheads on upperarms!
xoxox Sappy

I try to make a point of doing one idiotic thing each day. Today, I left the bath running over. Yesterday, I misplaced my passport. Both situations were salvaged - luckily. I don't know why I let myself out on the streets. Discipline. Discipline. Discipline. All gone now.

on my walks home when everything's shutting down i have a tendency to stop in at any open door i can find.
in this instance heffer's bookshop, which stood open after 6 for a launch event.


==

in the bookshop, or perhaps the supermarket, i thought of a one-off line, which went "i sing the humble _____" but what the ____ was i can't for my life remember.

the uni said 'let me mother, let me mother'
said 'suck my stone breasts'
but the hard paps are cold, and as unyielding
as male nipples. the steep taste
of life in the deep unadministrative womb
of the sprawling stone beast
starts to daunt. daunt, daunt,
i hover haunted by the sense
of obligations deadlines creeping up on me
quick as ghosts behind the collonades,
as we keep off the grass.

hinkhaze
hi, how are you? i just emailed you!
yahoo
sweeet!
im hanging in there!
i bought knickers.
i just got daunted in a library walking down
to sign a book
thinkhaze
really is it a bit lonely!
you're doing booksignings already?
yahoo
over the tiles past the tall shelves and marble busts
yeah, yeah - matriculation book
to "matriculate"
thinkhaze
it sounds like a classical temple
yahoo
it is the first time the stone surrounds have transoprted me
yea it was!
thinkhaze
that is pretty cool
yahoo
i have only been peripherally appreciating things because ive been so wiped out with organising myself, even just communications setup were a nightmare
thinkhaze
really as in wireless internet?!
bummer that it's been tough settling in
yahoo
yeah liek they gave me a landline phone numbr and ai went and bought a phone, only to discover there's nowhere to lug it in
that sorta shit
lol
thinkhaze
lol
bad tv comedy
sascha's sitcom!
yahoo
lol
yep
lol itd rock
i read ur email : )
thinkhaze
painfully funny

from before got web set up:


These hallowed halls are plumbed. It’s funny to think about the upright columns of moving shit
That must run up and down through the buildings,
Part of their framework. Scholarly waste.
[BB Crt, Mon 1 Oct, 2 pm ish, shortly after losing passport]

==

My teeth break chunks out of a fresh pear
In merrie England.
Hourglasses running love
Spin in my chest and
Words that have to wait
Stay bricked up mortal in my mouth.

Alone I feel a little bit serene
A little listless. Vivaldi streaks the air
With violinsong. The speakers are new. One fat pigeon
Looks up at me when I check on it
There on the windowsill.

Privacy never bothered me much.
I can see myself reflected in the window – seeing
What others would see if they looked
But they wouldn’t look and, if they did,
Worst case scenario: they might laugh.

I speak and, here, it doesn’t sound like English.
I laugh at myself. I’m a child.
I play with tracks from different CDs
On my computer. Eat. Drink. Wash my face.
This is my first night alone here. I guess
I must just be confused enough not to feel sad.

[Cambridge, Blue Boar Court, Sunday 30th September 2007, approx 7.10 – 7.15]
[the poem took about as long to tap out as the pear took to eat]

if they run out of fossil fuels they can start mining coal from under my eyes.