Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The Space

THE SPACE IS a football field and sometimes balls get lost in its infinite crevices. It's not uncommon that I spend a few minutes inspecting the room for my ball. She says just use one of the other ones, but I wish it were that simple. Each ball has it's own personality and some will work in certain scenes, some wont. The space is great when it's filled with music and it becomes some sort of jungle, with balls beginning to create their own simultaneous rhythms that may or may not keep pace with the track on the radio, cd, ipod or computer.

The space is a football field and you could trip over at any minute; bicycles, underwear, clothes and cables subtly forge opposition players' feet. But likewise they act as a team-mates comforting shoulder to rest upon. At night there's a dog that only barks when you're having trouble getting to sleep and you wonder what the fuck a dog is doing in the fucking business district of Bankstown, then you remember a set of apartments is being built round every street corner and there's one staring at you straight through that window.

People talk about mice, but the truth is there are no mice on the football field. People talk and ask about the place being cold, but the truth is, you're never cold on the football field. But regardless, you always need to find that ball.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Escape this infinite Absurdity

The space was bare and the water from the first shower was cold, how could it have been anything else? It was scary just how much this reminded him of Germany. The loneliness, the eeriness. But there was no doubt something totally different, something ganz anderes. Everyone seemed to think he was mad for living in the space, but he didn't understand. If only they'd seen the place's he'd slept in before. That beach in Cadiz was easily the worst of them all, but airports in Paris, Barcelona and Copenhagen weren't shabby, except for the uncomfortable, anti-sleep chairs, then there was the little Hyundi Excel which had served him quite well, amazing in its multitude of sleeping position options and of course the various buses he'd specifically boarded, knowing that the cushioned seat and nice scenery provided ample bedding.

In Saaldorf, he'd awoken at 4 in the morning to a fit of sneezing and had realised then and there as his vision panned the Christ ornamented bedroom. With an energy that surpassed that of 4 in the morning he searched out a vacuum cleaner and began relentlessly cleaning the room. But he'd take joyful moments to remember what Oliveira had said, 'only by living absurdly can we escape this infinite absurdity,' alles klar.