Still is the night

"Our hearts are leaving our bodies. Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs." - Edward Hirsch

 

I have picked up this new habit to sit at the doorstep practically every night I can find the time to. It always seems to be past midnight, when only seldom cars past by the main road and no cars disturb the street in front of the house. Occasionally, someone will walk past; either I will freak him out for sitting there like a silent ghost or he will freak me out for maybe trying to break in through my wide open door.

It will always be colder outside. Darker too. There used to be bats squeaking in the tree in the park right opposite the house but lately they seem to be quieter. Maybe mating season is over. Or maybe the weather is just too cold to say anything. Oh gawd when I first heard them I was wondering what the fuck is going on outside. On the first night, I thought they were cats and dismissed them felines and tomcats for having their bit of a fun. Then I have to change my idea because these squeaky noises went on for nights consecutively. (Come on, even they have to get tired at some point!) And they sounded more like monkeys than cats now. But on one not so special night, I saw little Batmans flying around so yeah, there is your answer.

Despite being cold, having malicious creatures nearby and potential front door burglars, I will still sit at the steps outside with my hands folded under my knees. I will need to abandon my chat mates (You guys know who you are) for a little while to tend to this me time. But my favourite songs will still blast from my laptop's crappy speakers. Songs: the usual slow and languid ones going well with the surrounding I am in.

Some nights I can count stars if I happen to look up. Nah. I do not count them. I never do. What is the point anyway. I will not finish and I will not gain anything if ever I happen to finish. (If you count stars, what are you thinking?!) I can always spot the Orion's Belt. Just because I do not know what the other fuckers are called. But on other nights I will not see them if it is cloudy. It is cloudy quite often here. Winter is, after all, coming soon.

I think about random things. Mostly of a place and time and people I left behind to come here. Some will make me want to cry. Some will make me smile. But. Mostly my mind is just blank, my body enjoying the music soothing to the ears. If they are lucky enough they will stick and be the Morning Song of the Day. But some are not that lucky. Yet not quite. For I play my favourite songs again and again too many times.

I can sit outside the night away if I can.

Writings in the skies

"I think I'm gonna go to Boston." - Augustana

Lesson #1

One Art
Elizabeth Bishop

 

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

This temporary life

"And you're wondering whose bright idea it was to pack your things and leave your friends and move down here." - Ben Gibbard

 

So the house in Red Hill did not work out. The renovations were not completed in time for me to move in once I arrived in Brisbane. So there was a tensed period of a few days while we were all scouting for a new place to stay closer to the Red Hill area.

Fortunately, we have my dad's friend Steven over in Brisbane, who helped us pinned down this temporary accommodation that eventually turned into a one year tenancy contract.

The house is old. And from the looks of it on the Internet, it will definitely not be as good as the house over in Red Hill. But alas, this is all we are able to get in such a short time. But hey, look on the bright side: I need to walk a mere five to ten minutes to get to class every day. There is a free shuttle bus service running in between the Kelvin Grove and Gardens Point campuses so heading into the city is as easy as flashing my student ID card. During weekends there is no fret as well seeing that there is a bus stand just outside my house. Hop on the bus heading towards the city and I am done.

Our landlady is Mary and from what we know, her father (or grandfather) built this house with his very own two hands. It has been in the family for about 60 years now. Yup. Wow.

From what you can see in the picture, that is our house and her house. Joined together. Our backyard us connected and it seems that we are pretty much ambushed. Hee.

And she has two dogs roaming free in the backyard. Alice and Julie. Alice is the "friendly" one that comes sniffing at your groin as a weird canine form of 'hello sunshine'. Julie. Well, she just does not give a damn. If she gives you the time of the day to bark from where she is sitting and wagging her tail, you can consider yourself pretty much lucky.

Inside is as simple as it can get. I can name you things that I do not like about the house: the carpeted floors, the whacked up fans with volumes all out of tune, the many moths in all shapes and sizes rallying in our house for some sort of nightly cult function, the showerhead (there ain't no showerheads as good as the ones you have in your very own home), the rusty falling off doorknobs... But hey, nothing you cannot work it out. It is bad but then again, it really is not that bad. (Nope, not making sense at all.) We just need to do some adjusting and tidying up. Just to make it more homely and liveable.

We do not have couches in the living room but four not so comfortable chairs to make up for it. There is a TV in the corner preserved from the 70s but wait, do not underestimate it for it delivers sole entertainment to us every night like a God sent angel. Yes, it is a colour TV.

Ever since broadband has been fixed, all computer appliances have been moved out into the living room for the only phone out here. The wires are (un)professionally scattered all over and if we hold our head up high enough, we might even pull it off being a cool geek of some sort. There will be a low budget workstation surrounding me as I print out weekly lecture notes on Saturdays. Dismantled once done. If not, there will be books still left right smack in the middle of the room. We will walk around them anyways.

The table cloth on the kitchen table rocks my cotton socks off. Buzzy bumble bee. A good start every day while having (peanut) buttered toasts or cereals before going to classes. No shit. The kitchen is bearable. Not a gourmet sort which you may on some bizarre day see Jamie Oliver in but well, I bet he would not mind cooking up a meal in this one either. We are poor students. We need healthy food too. Feed. Us.

Two Saturdays ago we had a cooking feast in say kitchen. The food theme: potatoes. Just because they are expiring the day after. On the second week arriving in Brisbane, we were just busy chasing on expiration dates. The fruits, the bread, the canned food, the swish roll... We may not be able to save all but at least we saved some! So. We had mashed potatoes, alphabet soup and marinated chicken. Yum. It is a piece of home. *le sigh* And to sit down together and have a meal all cooked up yourself. It is a definite contentment that shows yes mom, we can survive out there.

Next we see the bathroom. A bad transition from the previous place but oh well. It is a small little corner. A bigass mirror, a sink, a bathtub with a foreign showerhead. Where is the toilet, you may ask. Well. I do not know if it is an Australian culture to separate the toilet from the bathroom. But ours is located at the back of the house near the washing machine and back door. I have no idea why. Maybe they ran out of space when building the house. Hmm. I did not take a picture of the toilet because granted, it is only a toilet. How interesting can it get?

I got the bigger bedroom. The first thing that scared me was the dressing table mirror. Fucking big. As if a prop from some scary movie about dressing table mirrors where looking into it you will see yourself dying in the most gruesome way or probably your witch doctor from hell trying to kill your step daughter who is prettier than you. The bed was first located on the other side of the room and the mirror placed diagonally. If left said way, I will probably wake up every morning seeing ghost. (No pun intended, maybe?) So a little shifting around and voila, more spacious too. Parents also bought a desk set from Ikea just because I do not have one. I hid in the room all the time when there was no broadband connection, staring at the laptop screen listening to songs as if I am afraid the song will just jump out and escape.

I try to make my room as homely as possible: have the windows open at all times to allow cooling breeze into my room, always have the fan on, never leave the room with the lights on... Just like how I do it back in my own room. The bed is comfortably spacious. It does get awfully lonely on some cold nights though.
PS: My alarm clock kicks serious ass. Literally.

My housemate, Ee Ling has the other room. Her philosophy is to shut all windows and doors at all times to prevent creepy crawlies from entering her domain. Which cease to work seeing that once in a while she will run out of the room squealing when she saw a lizard. Heh.

Yes. This is a sojournised home.