I’m in a plane, slicing sky — I’m in a plane, and you wouldn’t believe what I am seeing: Southern Cross turned to sunrise.
Sudden cloudbreak: Australia! There’s a way small shadow of plane — right angle, right altitude, not quite plane-shaped — bursts into rainbow upon cloud-cross.
Tarmac-touchdown: Australia!
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Got your email: B&i baked and bustled all breakfast, recipe helped a bunch!
Last night took trains to Chapel Street, clean seats, happy colors—just lagging expectations. Everything left almost,almost.
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Joined the revolution. Trampolines, foam pits, gripping socks for gripping walls. Rotated through dodgeball, gymnastic bounce, pit falls, & free bounce.
One 2 a trampoline! Always watch where you’re bouncing!
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Tried driving, tried parking.
Failed parking.
Post office clerk reminded me of you. A practical pear, he explained, Just don’t run people over // headlights can be fixed.
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Sorry I’m shit at Skype. Tomorrow morning? (My PM.)
I want to hear all about your Chelsea adventures.
In Australia you say mocha like MAW-KA. A grill is a toaster oven with the door left open.
If you feel adventurous in Australia, fill puff pastry with ricotta and spinach.
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Found quiet little bike trails following Mullum Mullum Creek.
Keep left except overtaking // Passing on your right.
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b&i explored that tunnel I told you about. 200 meters, curving into darkness. Graffiti slipped from detailed to sketches to “I was paid to have sex here”
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b, Louis (friend of b), and I night-hiked to a camp site on Hazards Beach. We put up the tent, fought off possums & pademelons, slept, then in the morning set off for Wineglass Bay—the most photographed beach in the world, apparently. It was fine; lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe the low clouds occluded a Tasmanian Tillie.
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It is difficult to groce where “pumpkin” means squash. Chard is “silver beets.” Kale is “out of stock.”
On the plus side: produce is fresher ;; energy content is measured in kilojoules like some steampunk, mech-tech matrix.
Wish you were here—you’d appreciate how names flick lowflame to blownflame to smoke.
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24-hour KMart: accidentally enabled the purchase of a leopard print off-brand Snuggie ;; such shame with my rage.
What choices we make as jetlag lingers, still uninvited, still present.
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Met a giraffe
;; a ten-toed toddler
;; a half-sewn onesie
;; an un-, then baptized baby
;; a cave-laired bear
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Among other things, the underglobe challenges standard shaving notions. Hair-grain switches. All that blood rushed headward—so much gush for a knick.
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It’s been so long since High School ;; all those hubcaps stuck in lockers because of course they were. Scraps to pass like rush-written notes, folded scratch paper. Something about decorative junk, wheels rotating between us, distinctly outside-objects brought indoors.
The courtyard light always fell absurd.
Four years ago we graduated. Four years ago I took my hubcaps to the scrap heap. 10 cents for the lot.
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This man — the only mammal I’ve seen in the wild — saw me clicking away, abruptly stopped writing, trotted into the tunnel.
Go away, he echoed as he went.
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Come to Australia, they said. We have escalators, they said. Longest in the southern hemisphere.[1]
[1] at time of construction, they said.
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An interface placed on a side of the room has a sensor that detects the heart rate of participants. When someone holds the interface, a computer detects his or her pulse and immediately sets off the closest bulb to flash at the exact rhythm of his or her heart. The moment the interface is released all the lights turn off briefly and the flashing sequence advances by one position down the queue, to the next bulb in the grid. Each time someone touches the interface a heart pattern is recorded and this is sent to the first bulb in the grid, pushing ahead all the existing recordings. (from the artist’s description)
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Something haunting about St Kilda at night ;;
Site of “three separate and prominent unsolved missing persons cases”[1] including the murder of Adele Bailey, transwoman of color discovered 17 years later // mineshaft. [TRIGGER WARNING]
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