& sometimes all horizons just look the same
I didn’t have a winter holiday this year (unless you count three days on the Massey campus in Palmerston North as a holiday), so I stole a friend’s winter holiday picture (see above). Then I happened to be listening to Ralph Towner at work the other day and noticed his album cover (see below).
It has been nearly three months since last I wrote here. I have HEAPS of excellent excuses but I’m not going to make any of them. I’m just going to proceed as if I’ve never been away. I forgot my password but my computer remembered it. And in three months the whole WordPress blog tool has gotten itself all souped up and fancy. (But not fancy enough to stand in the way of my comeback. Although when I say comeback I don’t want to be making it sound like a regular thang.) Goes to show that technology is where it’s at, even if I’m far, far away from the technology, basking in my own sweet spell of digital oblivion.
TV is good. I’m writing this in front of it. Watching the wrestling. Or waiting for it to finish, more like. For a while there some girl twins bitch-wrestled some other girls. And then some oiled-up guys bashed the shit out of each other with ladders. Then I drifted off and decided on this.
Palmerston North ‘holiday’ was interesting. It felt grown up, in a drab kind of way. The two of us holed up in a hotel room on the square, both working — in close confines but each with our own tiny desk — until the small hours of the morning. Then getting up and doing it again. I made Simon come with me. I spent a bit of time in the evenings drifting off from my reams of photocopies and staring out at the clock tower’s morphing fluoro. It was quite striking, especially when underlit by a shock of violet (not so much the green).
At one point I spent about 10 minutes staring at the hotel room ceiling and thinking how it could be a room anywhere in the world. That’s the thing about hotel decor, and postcard-y nightlights. I imagined being elsewhere so well that I totally disoriented myself.
Then I finished up my time sitting in a room with a bunch of other postgrad students (mostly wondering what I was actually doing there and how it will be possible for me to sit the end of year exam when I will be approximately the size of a small house by then, and how it is that I have become a mature student… one of those pitiable, humourless creatures sitting up the front of the class asking stupid questions, fawning over the lecturer and lingering for one-on-one bonus time after class has been dismissed). And then we came home.
And now it is time for us to revolutionise this house with bookshelves. It might even be like one of those home renovation programmes, but for people with major book hoarding tendencies. I might even have a mini breakdown halfway through, flanked on all sides by boxes of books, crying for the camera, saying but I just always loved books… while some interior decorating minimalist cocks their head to one side and tuts quietly at me, as if my salvation is borderline… still possible, but hardly guaranteed.
Or not. I’m predicting the new shelving situation (three whole rooms!) is going to be better than television though, that much I can say. And that’s saying something.
Filed under: books, things I like, travel | 1 Comment