arcite's day

brushwork

Misty, shawled covered hills. I drove with Tyger down to the city library where I traded in my bulky art books on Dada & Surrealism & NZ Art for a single book of Karl Stead’s poetry. Back home, I cooked a tomato sauce with grilled peppers and sautéed mushrooms for us to eat with pasta. I sautéed the mushrooms separately and placed them in a white bowl while I grilled the peppers. When I tipped the mushrooms into the sauce, dark inky black strokes streaked the bottom of the bowl.


87

When he said ‘King’ I felt my cock stir slowly at first, like moving your thumb in a pocket. But soon my cock became so stiff it was aching. I could feel it poking against the button fly of my jeans. I hungered for something beyond the approaching mountain.
‘King Horn? I gasped.
“Close but no cigar’ said Wolf.

Yesterday I helped out at the boys' school fair. I got to work the Air Worm. At the fair I bought some Korean mint--which is supposed to be stronger than regular mint--and planted it in the garden. We watched American Splendor on DVD and then I sat outside on the bench, smelt the flowering jasmine growing over the garden shed and watched clouds race below the full moon. Why do we find the full moon so beautiful?

88
‘Always the same when you’re between worlds’ said Wolf.
‘You forget who you are. You were—you are—a king.’

"let the golden age begin"

1. a new career in a new town. bowie
2. driving around. strawpeople (nz)
3. the golden age- 101 mix. the flaming lips
4. in every dream home a heartache. ferry & birkin'
5. hey baby. no doubt
6. hooked on radiation. atomiser (pbs mix)
7. just like honey. the jesus & the mary chain
8. tricklin'. tindersticks
9. moments of pleasure. kate bush
10. wellington. the muttonbirds (nz)
11. american wife. goldenhourse (nz)
12. who'll save the youth of america? billy bragg
13. knowing me, knowing you. wondermints
14. coolsville (live). rikki lee jones
15. anchor me. the muttonbirds (live)
16. 'grade a' gravy. chet baker
17. serenity. chet baker
18. waterloo sunset. the kinks
19. mother. anika moa

tyger at the botanical gardens

I’ve taken a picture of Tyger with my digital spycam and I wanted, for the first time, to put a picture up on the blog. My friend Ikrek has a little server space I can use for pictures. But I’m all rusty when it comes to IT: Windows XP doesn’t have an ftp program so I rummage from some quite recent PC Mag CDs in Roishan’s room—a gift from his aunt— but I can’t find a simple FTP programme like Fast FTP. So I go to Shareware.com and download eazyftp which I unzip only to be told that it needs the .Net Framework to run. Now you know why my next computer will be running OSX.

Lego Racing Game

So we spent the morning at the Kaori Karnival over at Ben Burn Park. And Tyger wants to buy this Lego racer game ($40) which I know he will love. But I think it’s too expensive and the woman behind the counter wont reduce even when I resort to having Tyger ask if she can ‘give a lower price.’ Now, I’d already bought Tyger 5 tickets to the chocolate wheel roulette, thereby helping to ensure that he won the prize of a small box of Cadbury’s Roses, but he wants the game and his eyes fill with tears. Of course, I know that he has fantastic acting abilities and has no problems crying on demand. So we go back and buy the game. Do I spoil him? Well, he’s not that demanding and you are only 7 once. It’s just that I know that he will spend hours playing with this game.

89

My fingers strummed gggg then a and I remembered how she fell asleep in the apple orchard. As we drove to the Drop bars of yellow street lights passed over my face. Why did she awake with her face all scratched to pieces?

Is he being teased or bullied at school? He goes to the library every lunchtime and says that he's a bit scared of this boy who pushes him. He doesn't really want to talk about it. As his lunch-box is missing, I go and see his teacher to make sure all's OK. She a new teacher with not a lot of experience. But Tyger's lunch-box is in the class--she saw that he'd left it outside and had brought it back inside. So I tell her about the boy.

He just couldn't sleep last night. Word-girl worries that he worries so much about death and mortality. I think I did too at his age. But he's so chirpy and happy most of the time. Tyger has a fantastic enthusiasm and joie de vivre. For months now he's been sleeping in our bed and I've been sleeping in his small bed at the back. So last night we got him to sleep in his room but he kept walking up until he settled about 1020PM just as Nip/Tuck was ending. Then He came in around 1.00AM, so I crawled off to his room. He was so tired this morning that he hadn't got up before I left for school at 8.00 AM. We're not so good at routines, I guess. I think of him tired today at school. Tonight I'm going to see an outdoor production of Much Ado About Nothing.

Because it’s Valentine’s day, word-girl gives Tyger and Roishan Hershey kisses in the morning. Because it’s Valentine’s day, I meet her for lunch downtown and we go and I buy her Season 2 of Sex & the City as a present. While I’m in my English class on ‘how to teach Shakespeare’, Tyger’s in his drama class, in the costume of a ‘poor villager’ (crudely patched old sweatpants, shirt with ripped sleeves), ad libbing his lines about being terrorised by a giant.

When Tyger and I work on the model Fire Engine House, we listen to Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by The Flaming Lips. It's a brilliant, moving, lovely, deep and extremely silly. I adore the music. Tyger always has a good laugh at 'Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. pt.1'. Soon we'll move on to building the roof. If we have a long session then I'll stick on Chet Baker's Smokin'.


“ a big boy now”

1. Honey, I’m a big boy now. Billy Bragg
2. It’s a hit. Rilo Kiley
3. Boulevard of broken dreams. Greenday
4. The andy warhol effect. Strawpeople
5. It hasn’t happened yet. William Shatner
6. Beautiful people. Trinity Roots
7. The horses (live). Rikki Lee Jones
8. Field commander Cohen. L. Cohen
9. Summer in the City. Quincy Jones
10. Stoned to the bone. James Brown
11. Winds. Rhombus (feat. Raashi Malik)
12. Sweet release. Tindersticks
13. Don’t let the sun go down on me. E. John
14. Ian fish: uk heir. Bowie
15. Thank you jack white (for the fiber
optic jesus that you sent me.) The Flaming Lips


90

I turned and saw a cloth curtain just behind the front seat. I went through and saw that he had a small bunk, a tobacco tin, some discarded clothes and a fine acoustic guitar by his pillow. I picked up the guitar. It smelt of pine and dark forests. Around the rosette a zodiac of astrological glyphs set in mother of pearl.

Yesterday Tyger came home from school with an Outstanding Principal’s Award for ‘Sharing ideas during writing.’ This means he gets to have a nice morning tea with the Principal at a kid’s playcentre downtown. So we sat down and worked on the Lifelike Model Volunteer Engine House model together for an hour.

While Tyger was getting his award, I was team-teaching Drama to the oldest students at his school with some other colleagues from the college. We were working on voice work: soundscapes, fast/slow loud/soft exercises. The kids loved it and we had a good time. Even our fierce and taciturn drama teacher told that we had done good.

This morning Roishan played his Pokemon game while I spoon-fed him yogurt. And he thinks he’s such a big boy. But when he's focussed like that I can either feed him or let him go hungry. And he's not a game addict, thank goodness though he has a very unhealthy taste for caffeinated energy drinks (a curse on them!) Tyger lay in bed reading his model magazine and I smiled at his Bob the Builder pajamas and curly-top hair. So nice to get a cuddle in the morning. Life's looking up after hell month: the horrible summer job is over even though the wretched university has failed to pay me. I've handed in the keys to the tower. Even better, I’ve had no migraines at all for a week and I know that the cluster is over. The light looks right. So happy new year.

91
‘Wolf is my name. You don’t remember me from last time.’
The way he said it I knew it wasn’t a question. And I didn’t remember him.
‘I have something for you at the back of the cabin’ he said.

Singing bowl

This sweltering afternoon Mum and Dad sat in our living room eating the soft, fresh banana muffins word-girl had baked this morning. We were all a little hot after driving back from the airport where we had said our goodbyes to Penelope.

I carefully picked up the singing bowl from the altar and rested it in the palm of my left hand, with my right I slowly turned the wooden ringer around the base of the bowl until the room reverberated with the bowl’s ring. The sound rose from nothing became loud and then rippled away. ‘What a beautiful noise—I mean sound” said my mother.


I’m sick: I look at the day as a headache in waiting. But no new migraine so far. I really need to chill, get some peace. If I’m going to get rid of these headaches then I’m going to have to change the way I think.

He gently pricks my face with a pin then whispers questions in my ears. I watch his finger dance around the room. My blood pressure is normal and I'm in good shape. He tells me to increase my exercise: go for a long relaxing walk during the day or the evening. Have some time alone. All the drugs to prevent migraines have side effects. Maybe we can find another way of breaking up this cycle of attacks. I'm kind of nervous now about having another one.

I woke around 6.20 AM and saw Canopus at the foot of the bed. My head was foggy from last night’s attack and I ached a little, as if I’d been running in my sleep. So I closed my eyes, switched the radio on, and felt Canopus push against the side of the bed violently. Jeez, he must be hungry. But I couldn’t hear or see him in the room. Ten minutes later the radio news told me that they will have more on the sudden jolt that has just shook the Wellington region. There was no cat under the bed.

92

The truck’s airbrakes snort as it comes to a stop. The driver looks like an old biker only with a clean, soapy smell. There’s a tar stain on his brown moustache. The cab smells faintly of coffee; nutmeg, almonds. No sign of a watch or dashboard clock.
‘Where you going?’ he asks.
‘What’s the next stop south before the desert road?’
‘I can take you to The Drop. But they have a situation down there. You know the floods?”
I remember a newspaper blowing down the high street of a small town. The wind pushing against the advertising boards.
Best to say nothing.