(no subject)
community community, not here for long enough to really establish understanding, but long enough for rythms. two weeks, six hours a day of class, 4 one and a half hour chunks. eat. learn. tea. learn. eat. learn. tea. learn. eat. in the evening the eco-macho permaculture dudes make bread and cookies and chai and cultured milk, sometimes soaked with muesley. we pass around each other's laptops. we talk about class.
'yeah, that bit about all the seeding at once in the third session makes a lot of sense, yeah, that's just how nature does it, yeah mate, weird that people think you should stick things in the ground in rows, where did that idea come from?'
'yeah, that design jeff did for the y2k dude was pretty ingenious, eh? the garden surrounded by the damn and the semi-circular rammed earth house. yeah, mate.'
Processing Nina through my system, the non-event and the dissapointment of her being a real person again, and not a dream-character and an ideal, a future. I still don't know what will happen, exactly, but suspect it will lack that intensity I always assume everyone is seeking and it seems she is not. it will be nice. she is friendly and adoring and puts her hand on my knee and I get nervous- is this going someplace? is this affectionately how it is going to be? I have written more articulately about this in letter and will write more about it later on.
In the meantime, happy to be distracted by this small space. The farm is beautiful. unbelievably beautiful, lush landscape. I sleep in a tent in a feild of shiny ferns and long grass. To get to the complex of little straw-bale houses where we learn, I walk past the most beautiful mountain view and through rows of bamboo. We eat our meals on a dock overlooking a little man-made lake, gaze out at the waterlilies and the food forrest across the way. Though the winter weather is like a perfect september day, I have not yet conjured the guts to take a swim.
Strange strange eco-heterosexual energy here I am sorting through- all of the single men and the couple of couples. It was much like this at Sirius...the slightly-offensive-slightly-true glorification of the 'old way', the people before the bad happened, trickles down to a separation of roles that weirds me out- geoff teaches classes and nadia cooks, but when geoff is too busy taking phone calls nadia teaches, and everyone kind of smiles at her when she apologizes for her english not being good. I can't tell if I find it respectful or if I think everyone treats her like a little girl.
And me, playing in to that, stumbled in to the most cliche of circumstances with a too quiet boy who goes by the name Sink, of all things, in the moonlight holding hands and kissing looking at the stars and then...nothing...evenings off us milling around the other people in the evening and me wondering if he's looking for me or avoiding me- the initiatives I take he seems not to respond to, but I don't know. My impulse is to sit him down and talk about it but this is two weeks, the stakes are too low. maybe it should just remain a mystery what he's thinking and we should drift apart, i should try not to be concious of his body differently than all of the others here...in the meantime he says 'I'm going to get my guitar, I'll be back', and I want to finish up quickly and see if he's playing it outside. This distracts me from the constant revelation of permaculture class: that the work I am doing at school is as delusional, as unsustainable as any body elses. it is not special, I am not feeling unique and important and empowered, and that's okay.
'yeah, that bit about all the seeding at once in the third session makes a lot of sense, yeah, that's just how nature does it, yeah mate, weird that people think you should stick things in the ground in rows, where did that idea come from?'
'yeah, that design jeff did for the y2k dude was pretty ingenious, eh? the garden surrounded by the damn and the semi-circular rammed earth house. yeah, mate.'
Processing Nina through my system, the non-event and the dissapointment of her being a real person again, and not a dream-character and an ideal, a future. I still don't know what will happen, exactly, but suspect it will lack that intensity I always assume everyone is seeking and it seems she is not. it will be nice. she is friendly and adoring and puts her hand on my knee and I get nervous- is this going someplace? is this affectionately how it is going to be? I have written more articulately about this in letter and will write more about it later on.
In the meantime, happy to be distracted by this small space. The farm is beautiful. unbelievably beautiful, lush landscape. I sleep in a tent in a feild of shiny ferns and long grass. To get to the complex of little straw-bale houses where we learn, I walk past the most beautiful mountain view and through rows of bamboo. We eat our meals on a dock overlooking a little man-made lake, gaze out at the waterlilies and the food forrest across the way. Though the winter weather is like a perfect september day, I have not yet conjured the guts to take a swim.
Strange strange eco-heterosexual energy here I am sorting through- all of the single men and the couple of couples. It was much like this at Sirius...the slightly-offensive-slightly-true glorification of the 'old way', the people before the bad happened, trickles down to a separation of roles that weirds me out- geoff teaches classes and nadia cooks, but when geoff is too busy taking phone calls nadia teaches, and everyone kind of smiles at her when she apologizes for her english not being good. I can't tell if I find it respectful or if I think everyone treats her like a little girl.
And me, playing in to that, stumbled in to the most cliche of circumstances with a too quiet boy who goes by the name Sink, of all things, in the moonlight holding hands and kissing looking at the stars and then...nothing...evenings off us milling around the other people in the evening and me wondering if he's looking for me or avoiding me- the initiatives I take he seems not to respond to, but I don't know. My impulse is to sit him down and talk about it but this is two weeks, the stakes are too low. maybe it should just remain a mystery what he's thinking and we should drift apart, i should try not to be concious of his body differently than all of the others here...in the meantime he says 'I'm going to get my guitar, I'll be back', and I want to finish up quickly and see if he's playing it outside. This distracts me from the constant revelation of permaculture class: that the work I am doing at school is as delusional, as unsustainable as any body elses. it is not special, I am not feeling unique and important and empowered, and that's okay.