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Description
A self portrait. I almost broke my ankles shooting this.

Day 2:

I did begin the day with a few tears today. I called Centrelink. The man was rather lovely actually.

Him: So what do you want to do next year?
Me: I want to make art but I guess you don't want to pay me for that.
Him: Personally, I would love to give you money for that. But...
Me: Yeah. Should I just have a baby?
Him: Well, we'd still make you look for a job right up until the final months anyway.
Me: Ah. Apparently in Amsterdam they pay you to be an artist.

So we chatted for about forty minutes. I got off the phone. I cried a little then went and did some rehearsal for the cabaret. Spent two hours writing a rather lovely little duologue.

'Sally?'
'Yeah?'
'Tell me a story.'
'What?'
'You used to do it all the time. When we were driving up to visit Grandpa Ted, you would tell stories the entire trip. 450 kilometers. You never ran out of words. I remember wondering if the entire English language belonged to you. I was always quiet after those drives. I didn't think I was entitled to use words after that 450 kilometers.'

I cleaned my sock draw. Then I remembered that today was a 'write the story of your day' day and became very embarrassed that was dull enough to clean my sock draw. I decided to leave the socks out of the write up.

I shot this.

I changed my mind about leaving out the socks.

Three copies of my book ('In Memory of Arthur Who Was Completely Ordinary' [link] ) arrived on my door step. I wrote a dedication in the front of one and went to deliver it to the beautiful Miss ~eckyducky . To My Sarah, with stupid amounts of love and gratitude. We cuddled on her bed. We had icy poles. Very mature. We talked theatre photography. And theatre. And Centrelink. And her mother. I wrote her two of my recipies in her note book. One for tortillas and one for a chickpea curry.

My friend, Gareth, came to my place to collect his copy of my book. He brought champagne. We drunk on the porch with my housemate, Kristina. I smiled a lot. I had forgot to celebrate Arthur's creation properly.

I regretted the champagne when I went out for my jog half an hour later.

Kristina and I went out to see a series of 10 minute plays. 15 of them. One was so bad I had to bite her shoulder. We went to get veggie burgers. At some point, mid-burger, I decided that we would have a silent conversation. I didn't explain to her but she worked out the rules pretty fast. For the next 25 minutes, we confused the teenagers behind the counter by conducting a conversation using only gestures and non-articulate sounds. I talked a lot about Centrelink and the facial hair of the perplexed boys watching us. I haven't a clue what Kristina was talking about it but I loved it.

We came home. I wrote more of the duologue. I wrote this. I fought with my internet to try and post it.

(Sorry that I'm so dull right now! But the silent conversation was pretty rad! I recommend it, if you ever need to spice up a date. Don't bother explaining what you are doing to the other person. They'll love it!)

Description
A self portrait. I almost broke my ankles shooting this.

Day 2:

I did begin the day with a few tears today. I called Centrelink. The man was rather lovely actually.

Him: So what do you want to do next year?
Me: I want to make art but I guess you don't want to pay me for that.
Him: Personally, I would love to give you money for that. But...
Me: Yeah. Should I just have a baby?
Him: Well, we'd still make you look for a job right up until the final months anyway.
Me: Ah. Apparently in Amsterdam they pay you to be an artist.

So we chatted for about forty minutes. I got off the phone. I cried a little then went and did some rehearsal for the cabaret. Spent two hours writing a rather lovely little duologue.

'Sally?'
'Yeah?'
'Tell me a story.'
'What?'
'You used to do it all the time. When we were driving up to visit Grandpa Ted, you would tell stories the entire trip. 450 kilometers. You never ran out of words. I remember wondering if the entire English language belonged to you. I was always quiet after those drives. I didn't think I was entitled to use words after that 450 kilometers.'

I cleaned my sock draw. Then I remembered that today was a 'write the story of your day' day and became very embarrassed that was dull enough to clean my sock draw. I decided to leave the socks out of the write up.

I shot this.

I changed my mind about leaving out the socks.

Three copies of my book ('In Memory of Arthur Who Was Completely Ordinary' [link] ) arrived on my door step. I wrote a dedication in the front of one and went to deliver it to the beautiful Miss ~eckyducky . To My Sarah, with stupid amounts of love and gratitude. We cuddled on her bed. We had icy poles. Very mature. We talked theatre photography. And theatre. And Centrelink. And her mother. I wrote her two of my recipies in her note book. One for tortillas and one for a chickpea curry.

My friend, Gareth, came to my place to collect his copy of my book. He brought champagne. We drunk on the porch with my housemate, Kristina. I smiled a lot. I had forgot to celebrate Arthur's creation properly.

I regretted the champagne when I went out for my jog half an hour later.

Kristina and I went out to see a series of 10 minute plays. 15 of them. One was so bad I had to bite her shoulder. We went to get veggie burgers. At some point, mid-burger, I decided that we would have a silent conversation. I didn't explain to her but she worked out the rules pretty fast. For the next 25 minutes, we confused the teenagers behind the counter by conducting a conversation using only gestures and non-articulate sounds. I talked a lot about Centrelink and the facial hair of the perplexed boys watching us. I haven't a clue what Kristina was talking about it but I loved it.

We came home. I wrote more of the duologue. I wrote this. I fought with my internet to try and post it.

(Sorry that I'm so dull right now! But the silent conversation was pretty rad! I recommend it, if you ever need to spice up a date. Don't bother explaining what you are doing to the other person. They'll love it!)