Following Tuesday's wake up call tutorial I spent Wednesday writing structures and examining my material.
Today I have been trying out the structure I wrote and it looks like I have about 35 minutes of material which follow on and build into something.
Caroline came to observe part of the run...and she also questioned the same thing that Kate questioned...Am I going for slow and measured (read largely boring). Caro reckoned she was questioning everything because I seem so low in confidence. I'm just not sure of the material, I can't break out of this mode. Dorothy pointed out that I felt this way last year about Garland and it was a big success!
I need to get the wheels, latch and handle on the door fixed up before I can go much further with rehearsing the movement sequences.
There was reference to Aine Phillips and Donna Rutherford in my tutorial so I'm going to look again at their work and figure out where i sit.
I'm also typing up all my written texts so I can start to get them off paper and experiment with supping them up.
Arrrgh, am I always this underconfident in my ability?
Thursday, 1 March 2007
Tuesday, 27 February 2007
The penny dro-o-o-o-ps
Finally, I've got it. I've figured out what I'm doing! I'm making a show, which will be seen by important people, and my friends and family, and the examiners in exactly 3 weeks time!!
So I had better get my arse into gear, stop floundering around, splitting focus and Keep It Simple Stupid!
I'm not a live artist! At least not in this project. I need to make a theatrical show which is sophisticated, engaging on many levels and employs both my humour and pathos for the human condition.
Christ! Sounds easy, but it's not. At least now I have something clear to aim for.
So I had better get my arse into gear, stop floundering around, splitting focus and Keep It Simple Stupid!
I'm not a live artist! At least not in this project. I need to make a theatrical show which is sophisticated, engaging on many levels and employs both my humour and pathos for the human condition.
Christ! Sounds easy, but it's not. At least now I have something clear to aim for.
I drove all night...
I'm a bit hacked off that I don't know how to change the clock device on this blog.
I blogged last night, just before I left the building. I definately left the building at 7.15pm (after a false start at 7pm, i realised I was foolish not to use the academy toilet before I began). I finished off the 12 hour task at 7.15am at Central Station with a coffee from Upper Crust (the receipt says 7.12am so I must have sat down at 7.14am to watch the last minute go by.
Catalouge of events as I can remember them:
7.15pm - 8pm Walked down hope street onto Sauchie going left. The first 35 minutes were spent sat on the Concert Hall steps (I wanted to rest and I wanted to go home - it was very cold). I set myself the challenge of sitting there until the beggar behind me left. I read my book (Not Buying It - Judith Levine) to the strains of 'Spare a little change- for a cup of tea'. I noticed that he didn't really annunciate...at one point he shouted at someone, in retrospect it might have been me. When the concert had all but gone in, he came to speak to me, saying he had thought he knew me and that I was beautiful. We had a conversation, he asked me for change ( I never give change out), asked if I was waiting for my boyfriend, what was I reading? He told me he stays at Queens Park Hostel, I said I knew it. He told me how depressing and boring it was, full of drug addicts. Then he told me his story...been homeless since he was sixteen, since his mother died. His brother is a heroine addict and he hasn't seen his sister for about a year. He thinks he needs more support to get out of the hostel, he says its depressing that people come and go, a day a week into a furnished flat. I ask him why doesn't he sell the big issue, he does but he doesn't have a night time pass ( we talk about the big issue, I tell him I like reading it). He tells me he has made 3 or 4 pounds, enough for a couple of burgers, maybe a can of lager. But as soon as I think we might be having a real conversation, he tells me he hopes I have a good night, that my boyfriend comes soon. He shakes my hand, worries about it being cold, tells me to get a cup of tea. As a parting shot he says 'if you have any trouble...' I say 'what?' I think he is going to offer his protection services, he says 'Call somebody, anyone who'll help you'. It's a wee bit awkward, I laugh inside, wondering who I would call...I come to no conclusion. I feel a bit vulnerable...I don't, however, feel like what I'm doing tonight is wrong though. I don't feel guilty, it is my choice.
I move on when I hear someone reference me and my book. I think, reading is not blending in, and its also distancing me from my task. I pack up, feeling like a student and head down Buchanan Street. I look in all the windows, I am moving very slowly even though I'm cold.
8-9.20pm I walk along Argyle street. I see a Tesco Express that is new (to me anyway). Despite the fact it is so early I go inside, look at everything afresh, wonder if the security gard knows I'm different to normal. I take my time over purchase decisions. I spend too much time hovering by an instant coffee machine, stir my hot chocolate over and over even when I realise there is a staff member waiting to use the machine. I'm slow, I feel vulnerable. The guy offers help when I can't fix my lid on with one hand. I refuse to self scan, even though the security gard offers to hepl me. I want to have my transaction handled by a person. I take a carrier bag, my rucsac is quite full. It advertises recycling, I don't realise until later. I leave the store, men walk by and look at me. I go over the pedestrian bridge at Anderston train station. Up to St Vincent street and west...notice I don't know where Argyle street starts again. I need to go to the toilet, pass pubs and think about what I want to do. I'm not too aware of my surroundings...I focus on the Byres Rd, thinking I'll go to Tinderbox, fake looking for a friend and then slip downstairs to the toilet. The shop is busy despite the late hour. I sit in the toilet, my phone is full of messages so I delete some and a message from Dad comes through.
Hi. Ok. Dad
I send a reply,
Am i ok?or ok as a response to a question i dont remember askin?I'm fine,i love you and i'll call,maybe wed?hope ur ok?love Helen*G's birthday was brill!
the reply comes back
Good
I feel a bit guilty at this point. They would go spare if they knew what I was doing, contemplating (I still don't know if I'm going through with it yet). The weird thing that upset's me a little is that I don't think they would understand. I'll probably confess later and see what the reaction is. I again feel vulnerable. I think that I would probably call Peter cos I told him and Tom what I was intending to do.
I have spent approx 20 minutes in Tinderbox toilets. I leave without by-as-you-leave, I think I'm reading a text message, maybe that message is from my imaginery friend to say she is not in Tinderbox, I don't really care anymore, the pretence is not important to anyone else.
It's worth noting that the nearer I get to my house, the more I just want to give up. What is this acheiving, really. Am I in danger? Will my process be different if I don't pull off this task? but I push through, remembering what James said in my tutorial. 'It's hard work', I have to try a little harder. I want a different feeling for tomorrow.
9.35pm-10.45pm I'm intending to walk up G Western Rd, but I am enticed up a side street by it's name, Observatory Road. I think I can see the Observatory, but it turns out to be Hillhead Kelvin Parish Church. They have an accesible bench which I think I might come back to, then I see some cloth sacking in an alcove doorway and I wonder if other homeless people sleep here? I move on because it would be awful if someone from Church of Scotland came out and took pity on me...I'm not homeless, should I show my student card, explain? How would I explain?
I don't see the observatory, but the houses up here are wonderful. It's the perfect time to go past, I covet the large regency and Victorian rooms, the bold wall paint, the ceiling mouldings, the twisting staircases but mostly the warmth of domestic lighting. It's a real windows in the west moment, and I wonder if anybody who lives here was ever poor, would ever put themselves in my situation (my real situation or my imposed one). I feel jealous and I do want to live here. I review my opinion of the West End. I succumb to the dream, maybe I'll make a lot of money, forgoe my principles etc etc. Then I remember that I would probably hate my neighbours, couldn't abide keeping up with the Rhys-Joneses and it aint never gonna happen darlin'.
I get back onto G Western, passing a beautiful Art Noveau house with a door that would look totally at home in Ixelles, Belgium. I walk past the turn for Sadah's house, register the fat I have never walked much beyond here, start taking in details. I walk almost up to the hospital, but then realise they have no Accident and Emergency so I look a bit suspicious as the hospital is closed. I contemplate trying to spend a night in a hospital waiting room without faking some illness/injury. Another evening.
I walk over Anniesland Cross, the traffic is still pretty busy. I stop to look in a few estate agents, try to make sense of the asking prices...some places seem reasonable compared to others and then I think I am confused by the comma placing. I look back to the street and realise I have been dazzled by the bright halogen light. I get used to the dark and plod on. I pass a Wetherspoons, a refurb Art Deco building and I realise they are on 'Fifth Avenue' I smile.
10.45pm-12.40am I veer left into MacDonalds. I'm cold and despite the fact I have food in my carrier bag I like the idea of hot food and a warm place to sit for a while. It's advertised as open til midnight. I buy a cheeseburger, have some water and sit for a while with my book. A guy outside seems to be throwing a full paper cup of drink at his ?girlfriend?. I feel a bit safer in here, the music is pop but I quite like it. An indie ballad plays, something about a girl called Rosie? Then a girl starts cleaning, sweeping, the lights go on and off. I ask 'Are you closing?', they are only open til 11pm, the drivethru operates til midnight. I don't even go to the toilet, the door is promptly locked behind me, I wonder if they think I'm mad...she buys a single cheeseburger, asks for a receipt and then looks set fare to sit all night long. I consider a coverstory should someone ask, I'm locked out of my flat, my flatmate is working till 1am then I can go home...but no-one asks, no-one comments, no-one cares?
I walk a little further up G Western then think about whether I will make it back if I continue. I'm at 1870, I turn round a little beyond Knightswood First bus Depot. All the way I need to pee, I think of Brian as I pass the turn to Bearsden and pass BJ's (I have a vague recolletion he may have had a party there? Or joked about a party there?).
I'm really desperate for the toilet by my old bustop at Hyndland, I chuckle to myself when I think of telling Peter (who told me not to go in the park) that I went in the park. Or that I went down to the river to pee. I'm so aware of the fact that the greenery is all people's gardens here...not for the first time I lament the city centre custom of peeing down alleys does not extend to anywhere else. A guy stands at my old busstop otherwise I would have nipped into the shrubs there. I walk past various holes in the shrubbery and then decide I can't wait any longer. The traffic has temporarily stopped. I jump up the wall and hide behind a bush, all the while keeping an eye on the traffic and hoping for the absence of pedestrians. Phew.
I sit for 20 minutes at the bustop before the hotel. I'm reading again, I need a distraction. I vow to move on once the woman at the busstop opposite catches her bus. Sometimes I keep an eye out for a bus coming my way, I might catch it, who knows. I think about these metal benches being designed to deter homeless people from sleeping on them (Lucy of Project Close told me that...I wonder if it's true?). I get used to the whirr of the rotating advertisements. I like the warm yellow glow that comes off the Nambarrie advert, and I despise the woman who represents anti-aging. A 20 passes the woman on the otherside, it's not her bus, she waits a further 5 minutes and then flags a taxi. I finish my paragraph on page 107, and move on. By this stage, I'm freezing...and I'm so close to home...would it be cheating to get some things from the bedsit? OK, I'm probably being really stupid if I think I can stay out all night without even a jumper under my jacket. I set myself a limit on the time I can be in the flat. I think about what I need for the night and for the next day at the Academy. It still feels a little weird to put the key in the door.
12.40am-1.30am I repack my bag, add jumper scarf and gloves and then change my pink parka for my heavier longer parka. 5 minutes down. I grab the grey blanket from my bed, decide against the sleeping bag, and sit down for the remaining 3 minutes of the 10 minute deadline.
I feel rejuvinated by the 10 minute respite, my room which always seems so cold, is home compared to outside.
Then I head off towards the university, grabbing some cardboard from an open binbag on Hillhead street.
The walk is familiar, almost like going to college or walking home from work. My right leg hurts a bit from walking so far in thin soled shoes. I relish the bounce of my worn out work trainers.
I am going to college, I remember on the night of Cardboard Citz one of the spectactors saying to Terry that he sometimes dossed on the balcony of the RSAMD. I think I can feel a little rain in the air. At least the balcony is sheltered from view. I had considered a bench in Garnethill park but i don't want to be exposed (to weather or attention). I see a police car stopped on the side of the road and wonder (again) if I look different tonight than I do most nights. I feel different. I feel like I am surviving. I can almost understand the slowness, the quietness of speech from the original homeless guy i met on the steps. I'm not confident I'll manage, I don't want to draw attention to myself, I just want to see this simple night through.
1.30am - 6.40am
I actually got some sleep?!! As Kevin put it, I saw every hour on the clock but I did sleep. It was weird to say the least. I got to the Academy at 1.30am, wrapped up in blanket and sat on cardboard. I made up a ham sandwich but I couldn't even finish cause I was so exhausted. I lay down, head rested on my rucsac and I woke again, with a start at maybe 2am. Then I had an hour till 3.05am. I awoke needing to go to the toilet again...risked leaving my food and blanket, and furtively left the steps and went between two bins on renfrew lane outside Roseby's loading door. On the way back I stopped at the Savoy Centre bus stop for a taxi to clear the lights. I don't know why I felt so furtive, I guess I just thought the quieter I am, the less questions asked.
At this stage I really didn't know if I wanted to continue. It's so banal, I just wanted to sleep but wasn't sure if i could anymore. I wished there had been more light so I could read or write some notes, but then i was grateful for the darkness and peace it brought. No-one else was dossing tonight, it would have been sucha different experience if someone else had been there. I had moments of panic when I thought someone looked like they were going to come up, or people went by shouting.
Ate the rest of the sandwich and dozed sitting up right. Now my left leg started to hurt with the cramp of holding my body up, so I lay down one final time at about 5am. I was having the most amazing imaginative dreams (working in a venue where a projector went on fire and I had to make a decision whether a red handled fire extinguisher would do or whether i should leave it to the professionals, then something about flying/cruising on a first class boat. Really exotic). When I woke, cold and in pain, it was 6.35am and the town was starting to get busy. More buses, M and S loading bay in full swing. I realised that a street sweeper was cleaning the steps and so I hid behind the sculpture plinth I had been resting against. (Again, I don't know why, but I thought I might get into trouble, that he might tell the Academy...are the Academy steps private property, should he even have been cleaning them?). He got closer and closer, I thought he might have seen me peeping out...then he was talking to someone, one of the cleaners? (oh no, maybe they do come in before we are open which sabotages Thursday nights plan) and I just calmly descended the steps not looking back. When I crossed the road I could see the shutter was still down. I headed for Central station for some warmth, refuge from the now heavy rain and a coffee.
6.40am - 8am
As I approached Central, the main gate was closed and I was horrified that my last minutes were going to be outside. Luckily the other gate was open, of course. This was prime commuter time. I headed straight for the toilet, slowly finding a 20p piece and then dropping it when it was returned. The guy in the toilets let me through the disabled entrance so I didn't even have to pay. I sat in the left end cubicle, with my jacket leaving puddles on the floor. I felt relieved (that i could be so vulnerable in private rather than public). It struck me that people who sleep rough never get the freedom of wearing Pajamas, always sleeping in their clothes for warmth. I like to wear loose clothing or none in bed, to let my skin breathe. How awful would it be to wear the same clothes for a week or more, even 2 days is hard on my body, I know I smell, I will want to shower when I eventually get home.
I scrabbled around in my purse for enough money for coffee. I could only afford filter, and this made me feel vulnerable again (which is daft cos I could have easily taken money from the stations cash point, but i didn't want to spend anymore).
When I sat on a bench I realised I had 3 minutes to go until 7.15am. I watched the clock and then sat alternetively observing people and reading a metro. I was relieved!
8am - 8.15am
On my way into the Academy, I saw the street sweeper standing under the Savoy bridge. He looked at me too and I wondered if he recognised me. As I rushed in the front door (as I always do, glancing at the clock on the right), it felt different. I said morning to Jim at Client Services and considered the fact he might know I slept rough right on the doorstep. Would it be recorded on CCTV? Did the street sweeper tip him the wink. If he didn't know and I told him, would he be surprised. Would he even care? More than my parents, I don't think he would understand.
I blogged last night, just before I left the building. I definately left the building at 7.15pm (after a false start at 7pm, i realised I was foolish not to use the academy toilet before I began). I finished off the 12 hour task at 7.15am at Central Station with a coffee from Upper Crust (the receipt says 7.12am so I must have sat down at 7.14am to watch the last minute go by.
Catalouge of events as I can remember them:
7.15pm - 8pm Walked down hope street onto Sauchie going left. The first 35 minutes were spent sat on the Concert Hall steps (I wanted to rest and I wanted to go home - it was very cold). I set myself the challenge of sitting there until the beggar behind me left. I read my book (Not Buying It - Judith Levine) to the strains of 'Spare a little change- for a cup of tea'. I noticed that he didn't really annunciate...at one point he shouted at someone, in retrospect it might have been me. When the concert had all but gone in, he came to speak to me, saying he had thought he knew me and that I was beautiful. We had a conversation, he asked me for change ( I never give change out), asked if I was waiting for my boyfriend, what was I reading? He told me he stays at Queens Park Hostel, I said I knew it. He told me how depressing and boring it was, full of drug addicts. Then he told me his story...been homeless since he was sixteen, since his mother died. His brother is a heroine addict and he hasn't seen his sister for about a year. He thinks he needs more support to get out of the hostel, he says its depressing that people come and go, a day a week into a furnished flat. I ask him why doesn't he sell the big issue, he does but he doesn't have a night time pass ( we talk about the big issue, I tell him I like reading it). He tells me he has made 3 or 4 pounds, enough for a couple of burgers, maybe a can of lager. But as soon as I think we might be having a real conversation, he tells me he hopes I have a good night, that my boyfriend comes soon. He shakes my hand, worries about it being cold, tells me to get a cup of tea. As a parting shot he says 'if you have any trouble...' I say 'what?' I think he is going to offer his protection services, he says 'Call somebody, anyone who'll help you'. It's a wee bit awkward, I laugh inside, wondering who I would call...I come to no conclusion. I feel a bit vulnerable...I don't, however, feel like what I'm doing tonight is wrong though. I don't feel guilty, it is my choice.
I move on when I hear someone reference me and my book. I think, reading is not blending in, and its also distancing me from my task. I pack up, feeling like a student and head down Buchanan Street. I look in all the windows, I am moving very slowly even though I'm cold.
8-9.20pm I walk along Argyle street. I see a Tesco Express that is new (to me anyway). Despite the fact it is so early I go inside, look at everything afresh, wonder if the security gard knows I'm different to normal. I take my time over purchase decisions. I spend too much time hovering by an instant coffee machine, stir my hot chocolate over and over even when I realise there is a staff member waiting to use the machine. I'm slow, I feel vulnerable. The guy offers help when I can't fix my lid on with one hand. I refuse to self scan, even though the security gard offers to hepl me. I want to have my transaction handled by a person. I take a carrier bag, my rucsac is quite full. It advertises recycling, I don't realise until later. I leave the store, men walk by and look at me. I go over the pedestrian bridge at Anderston train station. Up to St Vincent street and west...notice I don't know where Argyle street starts again. I need to go to the toilet, pass pubs and think about what I want to do. I'm not too aware of my surroundings...I focus on the Byres Rd, thinking I'll go to Tinderbox, fake looking for a friend and then slip downstairs to the toilet. The shop is busy despite the late hour. I sit in the toilet, my phone is full of messages so I delete some and a message from Dad comes through.
Hi. Ok. Dad
I send a reply,
Am i ok?or ok as a response to a question i dont remember askin?I'm fine,i love you and i'll call,maybe wed?hope ur ok?love Helen*G's birthday was brill!
the reply comes back
Good
I feel a bit guilty at this point. They would go spare if they knew what I was doing, contemplating (I still don't know if I'm going through with it yet). The weird thing that upset's me a little is that I don't think they would understand. I'll probably confess later and see what the reaction is. I again feel vulnerable. I think that I would probably call Peter cos I told him and Tom what I was intending to do.
I have spent approx 20 minutes in Tinderbox toilets. I leave without by-as-you-leave, I think I'm reading a text message, maybe that message is from my imaginery friend to say she is not in Tinderbox, I don't really care anymore, the pretence is not important to anyone else.
It's worth noting that the nearer I get to my house, the more I just want to give up. What is this acheiving, really. Am I in danger? Will my process be different if I don't pull off this task? but I push through, remembering what James said in my tutorial. 'It's hard work', I have to try a little harder. I want a different feeling for tomorrow.
9.35pm-10.45pm I'm intending to walk up G Western Rd, but I am enticed up a side street by it's name, Observatory Road. I think I can see the Observatory, but it turns out to be Hillhead Kelvin Parish Church. They have an accesible bench which I think I might come back to, then I see some cloth sacking in an alcove doorway and I wonder if other homeless people sleep here? I move on because it would be awful if someone from Church of Scotland came out and took pity on me...I'm not homeless, should I show my student card, explain? How would I explain?
I don't see the observatory, but the houses up here are wonderful. It's the perfect time to go past, I covet the large regency and Victorian rooms, the bold wall paint, the ceiling mouldings, the twisting staircases but mostly the warmth of domestic lighting. It's a real windows in the west moment, and I wonder if anybody who lives here was ever poor, would ever put themselves in my situation (my real situation or my imposed one). I feel jealous and I do want to live here. I review my opinion of the West End. I succumb to the dream, maybe I'll make a lot of money, forgoe my principles etc etc. Then I remember that I would probably hate my neighbours, couldn't abide keeping up with the Rhys-Joneses and it aint never gonna happen darlin'.
I get back onto G Western, passing a beautiful Art Noveau house with a door that would look totally at home in Ixelles, Belgium. I walk past the turn for Sadah's house, register the fat I have never walked much beyond here, start taking in details. I walk almost up to the hospital, but then realise they have no Accident and Emergency so I look a bit suspicious as the hospital is closed. I contemplate trying to spend a night in a hospital waiting room without faking some illness/injury. Another evening.
I walk over Anniesland Cross, the traffic is still pretty busy. I stop to look in a few estate agents, try to make sense of the asking prices...some places seem reasonable compared to others and then I think I am confused by the comma placing. I look back to the street and realise I have been dazzled by the bright halogen light. I get used to the dark and plod on. I pass a Wetherspoons, a refurb Art Deco building and I realise they are on 'Fifth Avenue' I smile.
10.45pm-12.40am I veer left into MacDonalds. I'm cold and despite the fact I have food in my carrier bag I like the idea of hot food and a warm place to sit for a while. It's advertised as open til midnight. I buy a cheeseburger, have some water and sit for a while with my book. A guy outside seems to be throwing a full paper cup of drink at his ?girlfriend?. I feel a bit safer in here, the music is pop but I quite like it. An indie ballad plays, something about a girl called Rosie? Then a girl starts cleaning, sweeping, the lights go on and off. I ask 'Are you closing?', they are only open til 11pm, the drivethru operates til midnight. I don't even go to the toilet, the door is promptly locked behind me, I wonder if they think I'm mad...she buys a single cheeseburger, asks for a receipt and then looks set fare to sit all night long. I consider a coverstory should someone ask, I'm locked out of my flat, my flatmate is working till 1am then I can go home...but no-one asks, no-one comments, no-one cares?
I walk a little further up G Western then think about whether I will make it back if I continue. I'm at 1870, I turn round a little beyond Knightswood First bus Depot. All the way I need to pee, I think of Brian as I pass the turn to Bearsden and pass BJ's (I have a vague recolletion he may have had a party there? Or joked about a party there?).
I'm really desperate for the toilet by my old bustop at Hyndland, I chuckle to myself when I think of telling Peter (who told me not to go in the park) that I went in the park. Or that I went down to the river to pee. I'm so aware of the fact that the greenery is all people's gardens here...not for the first time I lament the city centre custom of peeing down alleys does not extend to anywhere else. A guy stands at my old busstop otherwise I would have nipped into the shrubs there. I walk past various holes in the shrubbery and then decide I can't wait any longer. The traffic has temporarily stopped. I jump up the wall and hide behind a bush, all the while keeping an eye on the traffic and hoping for the absence of pedestrians. Phew.
I sit for 20 minutes at the bustop before the hotel. I'm reading again, I need a distraction. I vow to move on once the woman at the busstop opposite catches her bus. Sometimes I keep an eye out for a bus coming my way, I might catch it, who knows. I think about these metal benches being designed to deter homeless people from sleeping on them (Lucy of Project Close told me that...I wonder if it's true?). I get used to the whirr of the rotating advertisements. I like the warm yellow glow that comes off the Nambarrie advert, and I despise the woman who represents anti-aging. A 20 passes the woman on the otherside, it's not her bus, she waits a further 5 minutes and then flags a taxi. I finish my paragraph on page 107, and move on. By this stage, I'm freezing...and I'm so close to home...would it be cheating to get some things from the bedsit? OK, I'm probably being really stupid if I think I can stay out all night without even a jumper under my jacket. I set myself a limit on the time I can be in the flat. I think about what I need for the night and for the next day at the Academy. It still feels a little weird to put the key in the door.
12.40am-1.30am I repack my bag, add jumper scarf and gloves and then change my pink parka for my heavier longer parka. 5 minutes down. I grab the grey blanket from my bed, decide against the sleeping bag, and sit down for the remaining 3 minutes of the 10 minute deadline.
I feel rejuvinated by the 10 minute respite, my room which always seems so cold, is home compared to outside.
Then I head off towards the university, grabbing some cardboard from an open binbag on Hillhead street.
The walk is familiar, almost like going to college or walking home from work. My right leg hurts a bit from walking so far in thin soled shoes. I relish the bounce of my worn out work trainers.
I am going to college, I remember on the night of Cardboard Citz one of the spectactors saying to Terry that he sometimes dossed on the balcony of the RSAMD. I think I can feel a little rain in the air. At least the balcony is sheltered from view. I had considered a bench in Garnethill park but i don't want to be exposed (to weather or attention). I see a police car stopped on the side of the road and wonder (again) if I look different tonight than I do most nights. I feel different. I feel like I am surviving. I can almost understand the slowness, the quietness of speech from the original homeless guy i met on the steps. I'm not confident I'll manage, I don't want to draw attention to myself, I just want to see this simple night through.
1.30am - 6.40am
I actually got some sleep?!! As Kevin put it, I saw every hour on the clock but I did sleep. It was weird to say the least. I got to the Academy at 1.30am, wrapped up in blanket and sat on cardboard. I made up a ham sandwich but I couldn't even finish cause I was so exhausted. I lay down, head rested on my rucsac and I woke again, with a start at maybe 2am. Then I had an hour till 3.05am. I awoke needing to go to the toilet again...risked leaving my food and blanket, and furtively left the steps and went between two bins on renfrew lane outside Roseby's loading door. On the way back I stopped at the Savoy Centre bus stop for a taxi to clear the lights. I don't know why I felt so furtive, I guess I just thought the quieter I am, the less questions asked.
At this stage I really didn't know if I wanted to continue. It's so banal, I just wanted to sleep but wasn't sure if i could anymore. I wished there had been more light so I could read or write some notes, but then i was grateful for the darkness and peace it brought. No-one else was dossing tonight, it would have been sucha different experience if someone else had been there. I had moments of panic when I thought someone looked like they were going to come up, or people went by shouting.
Ate the rest of the sandwich and dozed sitting up right. Now my left leg started to hurt with the cramp of holding my body up, so I lay down one final time at about 5am. I was having the most amazing imaginative dreams (working in a venue where a projector went on fire and I had to make a decision whether a red handled fire extinguisher would do or whether i should leave it to the professionals, then something about flying/cruising on a first class boat. Really exotic). When I woke, cold and in pain, it was 6.35am and the town was starting to get busy. More buses, M and S loading bay in full swing. I realised that a street sweeper was cleaning the steps and so I hid behind the sculpture plinth I had been resting against. (Again, I don't know why, but I thought I might get into trouble, that he might tell the Academy...are the Academy steps private property, should he even have been cleaning them?). He got closer and closer, I thought he might have seen me peeping out...then he was talking to someone, one of the cleaners? (oh no, maybe they do come in before we are open which sabotages Thursday nights plan) and I just calmly descended the steps not looking back. When I crossed the road I could see the shutter was still down. I headed for Central station for some warmth, refuge from the now heavy rain and a coffee.
6.40am - 8am
As I approached Central, the main gate was closed and I was horrified that my last minutes were going to be outside. Luckily the other gate was open, of course. This was prime commuter time. I headed straight for the toilet, slowly finding a 20p piece and then dropping it when it was returned. The guy in the toilets let me through the disabled entrance so I didn't even have to pay. I sat in the left end cubicle, with my jacket leaving puddles on the floor. I felt relieved (that i could be so vulnerable in private rather than public). It struck me that people who sleep rough never get the freedom of wearing Pajamas, always sleeping in their clothes for warmth. I like to wear loose clothing or none in bed, to let my skin breathe. How awful would it be to wear the same clothes for a week or more, even 2 days is hard on my body, I know I smell, I will want to shower when I eventually get home.
I scrabbled around in my purse for enough money for coffee. I could only afford filter, and this made me feel vulnerable again (which is daft cos I could have easily taken money from the stations cash point, but i didn't want to spend anymore).
When I sat on a bench I realised I had 3 minutes to go until 7.15am. I watched the clock and then sat alternetively observing people and reading a metro. I was relieved!
8am - 8.15am
On my way into the Academy, I saw the street sweeper standing under the Savoy bridge. He looked at me too and I wondered if he recognised me. As I rushed in the front door (as I always do, glancing at the clock on the right), it felt different. I said morning to Jim at Client Services and considered the fact he might know I slept rough right on the doorstep. Would it be recorded on CCTV? Did the street sweeper tip him the wink. If he didn't know and I told him, would he be surprised. Would he even care? More than my parents, I don't think he would understand.
Monday, 26 February 2007
Get Out!
OK, so I haven't posted all week, I have been writing down thoughts and feelings in a notebook cos I haven't been near a computer. I really am trying to keep an honest time based journal but it's very difficult for me to do anything everyday, I lack the ability to follow a routine.
I have a lot to catch up on, have been through the hardest couple of days in terms of making. Am having a really wastelful day today...my production meeting was a farce, my design tutorial was better but James gave me a lot to think about outwith the idea of 'design'. I feel wretched, having totally taken the weekend off, slept a lot of yesterday so I'm all about the action even though I really wana go home right now and chill out.
So instead of catching up on these difficult times...I'm going outside for the night, and will sleep in the Academy tomorrow morning before my tutorial at 2. I said I wanted to experience living outside so it's a step to something. I hope the experience will feed into my observations and material.
See you on the other side
I have a lot to catch up on, have been through the hardest couple of days in terms of making. Am having a really wastelful day today...my production meeting was a farce, my design tutorial was better but James gave me a lot to think about outwith the idea of 'design'. I feel wretched, having totally taken the weekend off, slept a lot of yesterday so I'm all about the action even though I really wana go home right now and chill out.
So instead of catching up on these difficult times...I'm going outside for the night, and will sleep in the Academy tomorrow morning before my tutorial at 2. I said I wanted to experience living outside so it's a step to something. I hope the experience will feed into my observations and material.
See you on the other side
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