public love diary LONDON

march 23 very late evening

(after glamorous opening)
(just before sleep)
(first night together)
(too tired to write)

march 24 late morning

kathe:

Sitting in our love palace after one night together, by myself, Paul showering or downstairs on the internet . .  I hate to admit how lost I feel, hate to admit the grip of the fear I thought I had triumphed over long ago: THE FEAR, the nameless fear that creeps up on you from behind in front of touching another person.  I am the pro at this, or so I think. 

Last night at the opening I threw my head back often, laughed and flirted continuously, carrying around my one virtually untouched glass of champagne with it's floating strawberry, eating more than my share of chocolate and cakes, countering (with love and a certain amount of stern discipline) the disbelievers, talking about god and energy and laughing, laughing, laughing about sex, carrying on as if I do this all the time and I do.  But today I feel sad and lost and quiet and more than a little foggy which may be just jetlag – is it? 

Outside our little pink home is the rest of the world, the floor staff coming in from their homes, many of them with less sleep than Paul or I, but still, back from home, fresh, showered . . . I have to admit, yes, I finally did shower today after the debacle of trying to shower last night in the scary dark bathroom deep in the bowels of this building where the restaurant workers from upstairs may shower, I'm assuming, after a hot sweaty shift . . . although obviously the women in the building aren't showering at all, not for ages, because I found the shower full of clothes and then, after pulling everything out and blasting on the hot water, I flooded the entire bathroom.  I turned it right off, naked, ankle deep in water . . the opening was in minutes and I refused to cave to the pressure, standing in front of the sinks in jeans and a bra, taking a sponge bath and brushing my teeth, while various female staff came in and stared at both me and the floor.  With a mouth full of toothpaste, I explained or gurgled "I am the love artist and . . . I don't know . . mumble mumble . .  shower . . . mumble mumble . . .  (smile) (shrug) . . " 

This morning after rising @ 5ish, overly sensitive to the sounds of traffic and creaks of dawn light, I had my yoga practice at the far end of the shop, figuring it was less trampled by the sticky party masses and was able to finish meditating just before the café staff blasted U2 Vertigo and crawled back to my newish love hubby.  I promptly fell into a really deep slumber nestled next to Paul, only to be awakened at 8ish by the chandelier over the bed coming on with the rest of the store lights, causing us to burrow even closer together deep under the layers of pink covers and amazingly enough . . fell asleep again . . .

Grungy and still very sleepy, I decided to brave the men's shower this morning, to the delight of the early kitchen workers whom I offered them no explanation as (again) I was caught at the sinks (with shirt on) with a mouthful of toothpaste . .

Otherwise everything has been pretty posh and wonderful with deluxe linens and a roomful of antiques, cushy bed, a worn out teddy and monkey (gifts from the sweet Eldina), tons of the above mentioned party favors (lots of leftovers) and coffee and croissants and big English breakfasts and lovely salads from next door and being able to faux shop in the store – Paul wearing  a beautiful sandy suede belt with his suit at the opening last night and me in long jewels and dangling earrings drawn from the shop's glass displays and that went perfectly with my ruby velvet dress. We have many long nights ahead of us for going through the rest of the merchandise, lingerie, dressing gowns and boots and for riding the horse that presides amidst the dressing rooms.

I was going to make Paul stand guard while showering but decided against modeling that kind of dependency just yet, although I crave it, I really do.  I don't know if I miss the daddy-ing I've been getting at home in my new love affair but it is curious to me how young and in need of protection I feel in the face of my awkwardness, high hopes and total exhaustion. . . I have not felt this way in the True Love Project since the very early days, almost as if I want to run and forget the whole thing although I have no idea at this moment what or where would make me feel safe for the vulnerability is profound and largely inappropriate even to this virtually forced and bizarre love affair.  I feel the only way to move forward, if indeed this is a true model of love is to confide my feelings to Paul and I know I can, but (and perhaps because I am so tired and off my ridiculously structured meditative regimen of home or perhaps because I have had virtually no privacy and have been working and flirting and talking, talking, talking round the clock since I arrived here on Wednesday) that feels akin to peeling my skin off ( I am the melodramatic one -- check with me tomorrow). 

This morning sitting at breakfast, both of us in the café straight from bed, me in my yoga clothes and glasses, without even washing my face and Paul in clothes just thrown over the briefs he slept in, we drank coffee and read and began to tell each other our past and it was delicate, hopeful and familiar.

march 23 afternoon (later)

(anna)
(first appointment)
(threeway)
(method acting)
(home & away)
(lots of love)
(cuddle)

march 24 early afternoon

paul:

So, we've spent our first 24hrs in the shop. Yesterday was crazy. By only 7pm it felt as though at least three days had passed since I got up in the morning. It's amazing how well Kathe and I seem to know each other even though we hardly know each others lives at all.  I think I'm starting to understand a little more about love. Kathe's theories, out loud, do sound a little abstract, but there is something in her energy and in the way in which she and me and this whole project is harnessing something that is as powerful and radical as it is beautiful and just nice. ("Nice, now there's a word").

The party was pretty wild last night, completely whirlwind but absolutely wonderful. Met some lovely people, showed them around our new home and really filled the place with love. Kind of like a wedding reception and a housewarming in one. Sleeping here was odd. I think the combination of a new bed, a strange environment, us being almost strangers and me sleeping on the wrong side of the bed made for not a great night's sleep but I'm sure it'll be better tonight.

march 24 after work

 


paul tries on some clothes

march 24 late evening



(new)

march 25 early morning

(well paul exhausted before sleeping, then restless later)

(the love artist sleeping like a baby)

 

paul:

Well, I had a slightly better night's sleep but still woke up really tired. I guess I always do when I share the bed with someone I'm not used to. We had a quiet evening last night, reading (to ourselves and each other), eating a lovely dinner from the Bluebird Café (ordered through the back door of the kitchen, which is adjacent to our night-time toilet), taking a few cutesy photos of ourselves and watching a Kath and Kim DVD in bed.


Had what feels like an industrious morning, making ourselves look good (we're 'modelling' clothes from the shop for free) catching up on emails, blogging for the website and getting ready for the full afternoon of appointments we have this afternoon. I'm looking forward to them, I might try and get some Oysters and Champagne in our last appointment, I think that could be rather wonderful. And aphrodisiacal also. (NB Did  you know the word 'aphrodisiac' comes from Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, borne on the separation of heaven and earth in the foam of the sea and thus around since the beginning of time. Oysters grow on the shores of the sea and have existed as a comparatively unchanged species for about 200 million years. I think I might do a presentation for Kathe about oysters, I think we could really go somewhere with it, she has some fascinating ideas about water and love and consciousness). More later…

march 25 full loving day

(love & rosie)
(tears)
(beautiful tears)

(rosie's grandma @ the love palace)
(then a little brokeback)
(wrecked again)
(an aborted virgin sacrifice, antibiotics & true love)
(dopamine & oxytocin)
(tigers)

(rosie comes back with nicholas, her father)
(unfortunately too little time)
(bricks)
(the beautiful hudson river)
(old buildings)
(love all the same)

(kathe & raimi alone together)
(members of the republic & ambassadors to each other)
(black & white & yellow)
(the gaze)
(ambiguity)
(love)
(sitting inside & outside in the park)
(silently talking)
(molecules)
(atoms)
(neutrons)
(concentration)
(divine)

(arabella & simon)
(high on dopamine)
(in love for life)
(oysters & chocolate & more & more oysters)
(special delivery)
(randy talk & randier talk qualified by ecstatic love & more ecstatic love)
(late night texting)
(hearts racing)
(the plunge)
(passion)
(inspiration)

march 26 noonish





kathe:

We're getting along Paul and I, rather seamlessly in a quiet way that some may not think love.  No overt trappings, although Jonathan the handsome security guard that I have a tendency to lean on as my personal concierge (he does protest - rather weakly and unconvincingly) was wisecracking on his way out to Paul to carry on waiting on me in his absence.  And I have to say, Paul does wait on me graciously, like the gentleman he is, and I'm sure he gets a lot out of it.  I do my best. 

We are kind and polite and supremely interested in what each other has to say and we watch kath n kim on tv everynight cuddled up under the covers, heads pressed together as we peer into the screen of my computer.  We are independent lovers, Paul and I, we like to work and nap when the store is closed and then meet at our little table for some late dinner.  I am very fond of him, more and more and more fond of him.

This morning we chose to sit outside the café at the table closest to the street for our breakfast, the absolute furthest we have allowed ourselves to stray from the store.  It's funny how we make the rules.  It's rather arbitrary (much like our love).  We decided never to leave for the 10 days without much discussion or qualification.  This turned out to be a very good thing, symbolizing our commitment to each other, especially because my particular strain of loving (TRUE LOVE) is a fairly bland and/or open (or I prefer to think of as pure) state about just being, so being continually in each other's presence is probably the most efficient way for us to feel and give as much love as possible in such a short time. 

I wasn't thinking about it at the time, like I said it was kind of arbitrary, but it's actually an experiment in attachment theory, for it is the two of us against the world outside, shipwrecked or abandoned, depending on the kindness of strangers -- the security guard or shop employee or the chef in the café that we negotiate with through the crack in the door -- to bring us what we need.   But yesterday we decided that we were allowed outside at the tables in the café in order to soak up a little suntan, if there were to be any sun, and fresh air and to watch the people as they strolled up and away from us.

Sitting at the last table, like stray children pushing our boundaries, we read the Sunday paper and drank loads of coffee, me still in my pajamas and Paul in his proper gentleman's hat and scarf.  A child chased leaves on the patio.  I sniffed the air and looked up at the sky.

I asked Paul how he felt when people asked him if he had ever been in love.  I have been doing my best not to worry about him or to worry at all about the intensity or lack thereof of our connection, tried to not let the constant questioning of what is love, what is it, get to me.  Paul did admit that it made him feel somewhat unqualified, (particularly, though this went unsaid, as I chattered easily on about my complex love resume).  But how, I asked him,  could you possibly be unqualified.  You have been loved since the day you were born, probably by multiple people, and are loved now by me and, it is obvious, by many others by the way your phone is ringing, well, obvious by your very way of being that you are much cherished and how much you know about love and how to love.

It's funny how hard stillness is, how much easier it is to follow obsession and compulsion, so much easier to be lost, how much harder to be perpetually thrown back on yourself by a generous and graceful lover.

paul:

Yesterday was a wonderful day. We had a few appointments, all of which were great, and brought with them tears, tenderness, magic, wonder, laughter, secrets, joy, passion and desire. And a lot of love too, obviously. I'm starting to realize, as I do whenever I make or am part of work that is great, that this thing is so much bigger and more powerful than me and us. Kathe said last night that what people experience when they come to the project is not only her (or our) love, but the love that is in the space, the love that is the project and the love of all of the lovers that have been a part of it (and possibly all those who will be, at a stretch…?).

It is true that this wave, this movement, of love is something infectious that cannot be stopped from spreading and infiltrating the world. This, I believe, is a radical and legitimate political project of which I feel proud to call myself a part. I'm not sure if it's my reserved Englishness, a professional emotional detachment or just a deep-rooted fear of risking myself, but there is something exhilaratingly frightening about deciding to open oneself up to love. Does this make sense? I'm not sure how much it's supposed to.

Kathe and I seem to be settling into our artistic domesticity more and more comfortably. We have developed a nightly routine of Kathe working whilst I take an early evening nap and wake just in time to shout the friendly chef for some supper; we eat sat in overstuffed boudoir chairs at our antique table and chat a little about the day, we return our empty plates outside the kitchen door, sit under the duvet for another episode of kath and kim on the laptop before turning out the lights and blowing out the candles for sleep.

Last night I slept so well and felt a million times better for it. I woke up ready and roaring to go, but being Sunday, the staff didn’t come in until later so I paced in a mid morning limbo until we were released for Sunday breakfast and a shower in the kitchen staff's basement quarters. (Kitsch and convenient metaphor it may be, I've noticed the red heart confetti from the floor of our room seems to be straying through the corridors, into the cubicles and across the cobblestones of the entire Bluebird building, which can only be a sign of the spreading of love.) We ate breakfast outside this morning, drinking coffee and sharing the Sunday papers in a warm and comfortable silence.

march 26  sleepy cloudy sunday



(george picks kathe first, then paul as a "chaser")
(tender)
(he asked me if anyone ever gets hurt, here in the love palace)
(i felt careless then, because i was flirting)
(i said everyone always gets hurt eventually, don't they?)
(he asked me if it got easier)
(i said it only gets easier to recognize when i'm trying too hard)
(it doesn't always get easier to love myself)
(i'm trying)
(this picture makes me sad)
(i felt beheld)
(diotima)
(thank you george)
(um . . . )

(the chaser)
(paul said they talked about the project conceptually . . ?):

(paul here)
(benefits of being single whilst doing it - it being public love)
(love between cyclists)
(possibility of love on the tube)
(pink bedroom walls vs dark brown)
(an embarrassed hug)

(paul has a spontaneous encounter w/ some holy strangers – friends? sisters?)
(what do I understand about love?)
(god is love, love is not god)
(one is getting married later in the year, hydrangeas at the wedding?)
(reflections in the mirrorball, true source of light)
(loving oneself before one can love/be loved by anyone else)
(there is no official record)(no ritual)(no closure)

(stavros)
(our first official shop employee lover)
(feeling imperfect & beautiful & full of love)
(beautiful blue flowered shirt under his brothers jumper)
(from the dirty linen pile)
(perfect & beautiful)
(spreading molecules of love at the disco)
(we have all been there)
(channeling kylie minogue)
(causing kathe to channel madonna)
(paul felt the love)
(being everything & everyone)
(beautiful)
(perfect)

march 26 late evening

(telling secrets)

paul:

(bread and houmous and olives with love from Stavros)
(talking) (shared pasts) (loving alcoholics) (miracles)
(closeness) (estrangement)
(our history together)
(comfort in sharing stories, secrets, lives)

(kathe talks about god & cries just a little)



taking the edge off with a little kath & kim

paul:

Sat in the basement garage smoking a cigarette (just metres away from Mark Knopfler's caged Lancia coupé).  I have a moment in which I suddenly think that I'm on holiday somewhere.  Which I kind of am, but quite why I realise this only when I am in the basement, I do not know.  I think on this (it's clearly a very pensive cigarette) and then realize that Kathe's invitation to me to collaborate with her on this project was in itself a massive act of love.  My leap of faith in accepting and cohabiting in the project was the same.  In my mind I have the phrase "being an accessory to love", which I like but don't think is quite accurate.  Ditto "conspiring to love".  Dot dot dot question mark.

march 27 day (a turn)

(simon & kathe & paul together again)
(respecting beginnings & fragility)
(being gentle with ourselves & each other)
(the immensity of it all)
(holding)
(fragile)
(love you so simon)

(john)
(soggy)
(secret snogging)
(plastic joy)
(at least 2 minutes of fun)
(but really more)
(family)(matrix of love)
(love)
(love)
(love)

(gloria & matthew)
(light)
(form & function & buildings & love)
(tiny vikings out)
(monsters drawing exquisite corpse)
(beautiful cosmos)
(the other half)
(words that belong on a page)
(rose)
(vue)

(krassi & kathe)
(paul was there somewhere)

(a little lost)
(but trying his best to keep up)
(girls)
(boyfriends boyfriends)
(men men)
(can't live with them)
(can't live without them)
(backbone)
(the possibility of the unfurled fist)
(don't look back)
(eyes)

 march 27  in the night (in the store)

march 27 (backtrack) late afternoon and then later evening



(kathe tries to top-up her phone and finds the translation difficult)
(gets her cat up and freaks out)
(takes refuge on the sofa in the shoe department while her man paul handles things)



(back to dinner after a rope skip in the store after hours)




(tires herself out) (endlessly spinning her story into the night)


 

march 27 into the 28th much much later

kathe:

I have tons of self-doubt when I do this work.  I think it pops up mainly when I worry about how good I look, which is kind of often although I work vigorously to let it go.   I live for the fluid moment and that is really what the whole project is about, when there are no boundaries, not just between people but no boundaries between the self and non-self within, everything perfect, no, not even perfect because in the fluidity, there is no time for analysis because everything is in the process of moving forward. . . 

Yes, well enough of that.

Googling myself always cheers me up (as long as we're being honest here).  In my (slight) depression,  I found a blog out there that mentioned the project, just a small note but it was prefaced by a little prayer that calmed me right down and brought me some needed perspective, approaching "hump" day or perhaps actually "hump" day, the halfway point – when I used to run poetry intensives, where a group of intense poets would be holed up for a seven day period, Marie Howe, one of the retreat's resident teachers, would always say "It's Wednesday, someone will be crying soon . . " And so it goes  . . . anyway here is the blog entry that really cheered me up:

******************************************************

Sunday, March 26, 2006

And a reply from Mr God

It is beyond my comprehension how things work in life. After yesterday's post on waiting for life to begin, I received an email from my dear aunt...

The Joy Of Being in this Moment

Ask yourself: Is there ease, joy and lightness in what I'm doing? If there isn't, then life is perceived as a burden or struggle. If there is no joy, ease and lightness in what you are doing, it does not necessarily mean that you need to change what you're doing.

It may be sufficient to change the how.

How is always more important than what.
See if you can give much more attention to the doing than to the result that you want to achieve through it.Give your fullest attention to whatever the moment presents. This implies that you also completely accept what is. This is because you cannot give your fullest attention to something and at the same time resist it. As soon as you honour the present moment, unhappiness and struggle dissolves. Life begins to flow with joy and ease. When you act out of present moment awareness, whatever you do becomes imbued with a sense of quality care and love, even in those simple actions.

Talk about coincidence, especially when she doesn't know what I am up to most of the time. let alone how I am feeling....

*looks up at the sky*

*heh*

@  http://fongky.blogspot.com/

***********************************************************

I was able to lull myself to sleep next to paul's steady breathing (not snoring, despite what you may have heard me say on tv) and the sound of the traffic that has now begun to sound like the ocean. promised myself that tomorrow would be better and that I would lay aside all my doubts and fears and pay closer attention to the love. 

march 28 very early morning

paul:

I wonder if the glittery heart confetti (which is now getting everywhere in the building) is going home with people. On their shoes, in their turn-ups? I want to leave an unfinished packet of S20s (Taiwanese cigarettes with a heart-shaped filter) in the basement smoking area for the chefs from the Bluebird.  I do like chefs.

 

march 28  hump day




(we snuck andrew in)
(he is a busy man)
(we loved to fit him in)
(we loved him & it was easy)
(to be everything & do it well)
(to love & work)
(love yr daughters)
(love yr wife)
(and you are so clear & easy to believe)
(home)(keep the weekends free)
(kathe tells the story of her marriage)
(much nodding)(of course her eyes are watery in spite of herself)
(trying)
(hard)
(love)
(busy)




(michael)
(lovely)
(but we really do love them all)
(books and books and oblivion day)
(the niche of the soul in the night)
(carrying on into the night & into the next day)
(the ability to enter the soho life)
(to surf continuous nighttime & the creative soul)
(non exclusivity and particularity)
(to live 2 more years wickedly or 20 more serenely)
(tough choice really)
(love to be wicked)(love to live)
(fanks)(michael)(fanks)

(by fritz)

(fritz)(fritz)(fritz)
(what to say)
(back again for the third time)
(the first time an almost accidental true love day in berlin)
(but what is an accident in love)
("i kept wondering whats the quality of that sound, whats the quality of that colour" berlin 2002)

(second time absichlich - on purpose - in london 2004)

(and now)
(again)
(code 46)(how do we know each other)
(how can you tell the difference between inside & outside)
(the project)
(real life)
(the big excrutiating)
(love)
(now)

(natalie)
(new in town)(first day on the job)
(supposedly to interview & take pictures)
(didn't know she would fall in love)
(willing to go the extra mile for love)
(it's all in the little things)
(pack a lunch for your boy/man)
(take care)
(what can I do for you)
(effortless)(a true beauty)
(inspirational)
 

march 28 after work (love)



kathe:

I miss my kids.
(on the phone with mara in amsterdam)

march 28  nighttime




paul:

I started a sentence this morning "I've been itchily…" but was obviously distracted or disrupted before finishing.  An odd day.  Love is grand, love is great but it's also very exhausting.  I fell into a bit of a trough earlier today (in the metaphorical sense, of course).  All this loving people is hard work and if one isn't careful it can leave one a little empty.  Perhaps.  Or perhaps being stranded here as we are, two loving strangers, surrounded by beautiful things which aren't our own, unable to do the things we normally do to maintain emotional equilibrium, perhaps that can leave one a little empty.  Or tired at least.

Loving freely is not as simple as it sounds (if it does sound simple).  Most of the love here is platonic, appreciative, and consoling, but there have been moments at which lust and romance have entered the equation of appointments (both in reality for each and in our love artists' crushes).  Joy, surprise, frustration and disappointment are all themselves love.  So we laugh, eat chocolate, nap and exercise to deal with it.  Today I've taken up jogging.

in a moment outside of time

Paul Hurley: Manifesto

Love and art are inextricably linked.
Beauty is the aspiration of the artist in everything he/she does.
The artist is different to other human beings.
Art is not to be understood, it is that which the artist cannot understand.
Beauty, terror and love are the animal that sweeps us up and makes us become, in a becoming that is called art.
Originality has no meaning outside of itself.
Not everything can be art but everything has the potential to be a portal through which art can sweep.
I can choose to do things in my life artfully or non-artfully, but never without art.
The artist can have powers akin to those of the shaman, the priest, the teacher, the politician, but will always be an artist.
In lived art the body is neither subject nor object.
The encounter of art, that encounter between artist and spectator, is a sharing of each other's beauty, terror and love.
The artist may not be an artist.
Art doesn't belong to anyone.
The artist doesn't understand the body, the scientist attempts to understand the body.
Things can get better.
If he/she is making art, the artist must not forget that he/she is doing so.
Above the responsibilities that he/she has to the audience and to other artists, the artist has responsibilities to him/herself.
The artist's loves of other people are part of his/her art.
The artist's art is part of his/her love of other people.
Sometimes the artist fails to be artful.
The artist must not fail to love.

march 29  late afternoon





outside becomes so rare


desert island desires:

paul:


1.  Deleuze and Guattari A Thousand Plateaus –

A weighty text I probably started reading in 2000 and have still to get to grips with. A desert island or a long custodial sentence are probably my best chances of finishing it.

2. Jeanette Winterson Sexing the Cherry –

A gift from a special friend that brings magic wonder with every reading.

3.  Larousse French Dictionary –

For some reason I feel like it would be useful.

4.  Toni Morrison Beloved –

Like Winterson the woman can write. Beloved is a book with a life of it's own, unbelievably dark but so, so, worth living with.  Sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it.

5.  Italo Calvino If on a Winter's Night a Traveller –

I read this once before and it kind of blew my mind. I don’t know whether second, third, four hundredth  readings would be the same but I'd try.

6. Marleen Gorris -- Antonia (/Antonia's Line) –

I originally saw this film in Dutch without subtitles (and before I could understand much Dutch) but it brought me almost to tears. A beautiful, funny, moving and life-affirming film. (God, that's sounds like a cliché).

7.  Beach Boys --  God only knows –

There's something magical about the Beach Boys, and obviously fitting to a desert island. This song reminds me of a very dear friend and of the strength and fragility of the human soul, the power of love in the face of sheer terror.

8.  Rufus Wainwright Old Whore's Diet –

"An old whore's diet, gets me going in the morning. Ain't nothing like it, gets me going in the morning. To say I love you gets me going where I want to".  I'm totally in love with Rufus Wainwright, almost as much as I'm totally in love with Will Young.

9. Charles Mingus –

I don't know Mingus well enough to know which song I'd take, but I do think his music's amazing and so I'd take some with me.  If that's ok. 

10. Happy End Kaze Wo Atsumete –

Given to me on a mix CD by a close yet distant friend of mine.  It's simply beautiful and reminds me not only of her but of so many wonderful times we spent together in Japan and elsewhere, being young and twenty-something and dreamy.  Ah.


kathe:


1.  Wim Wenders - Paris, Texas -

The ultimate sadness of the disconnect in wanting and having between a man and a woman.  I love the scene where she can't see him through the mirror but she knows he's there and keeps listening.  Her face while she's listening.

2.  Walt Disney - The Three Lives of Thomasina -
"I Am Thomasina -A Most Unusual Cat...They Say I'm Enchanted, and I Am!"

The cat narrates this film and again it's a classic masculine feminine paradox. Lady & the Tramp ran a close second, scorching my love DNA like a retinal image for life, but Thomasina taught a man how to love like no woman ever could, oh god, you have to see it -- Patrick McGoohan as the cranky mortally depressed vet and then there's a beautiful witch that really knows how to heal animals living in exile in the woods and . . .  the dream sequences are completely hallucinatory with spiralling flowers and golden sphinxes . . . . one of the first movies I ever saw, ever . .

3. Lynne Ramsey - Morvern Caller -

When Movern enters the hotel room of a boy she never met, just as he receives the news his mother has died . . samantha morton in the most real sex scene I have ever seen.

4.  Doris Lessing -- The Marriage between Zones 3, 4, & 5 --

Now this is starting to seem obsessive . . . a science fiction book that follows the war between a dominant female "zone" and a dominant male "zone" and the recombination and ultimate romantic collusion between the two rulers . . . not what you would think, I learned and will continue to learn so much.

5.  Phillip Pullman - "His Dark Materials" -

I'm so cheating here, it's actually a trilogy, but Paul didn't notice.  You know why if you've read it, if you haven't, oh well . . .

6.  Anne Carson - Autobiography of Red --

I lose myself here, I will possibly never understand it, I love it.

7.  Courage to Change

No comment.

8. Ananda Project -- Cascades of Colour (Wamdue version)

The sexiest song ever . . shit I better be lucky on that desert island or be more evolved by the time I get there.

9.  Johnny Cash - Ring of Fire -

You know.

10.  Bent -- Always -

Hypnotic, operatic, with a house swell that breaks my heart. You have to leave it on the record player with the arm back.  Forever.

march 29  love-in (total eclipse of the sun)

(francis comes in)(kathe starts crying almost immediately)
(eclipse)
(he starts with 3 things)
(what is love?)
(reading off the wall - on paul's side of the bed:
never sleep with anyone crazier than yourself)
(curious about andre's text - also on paul's side of the bed:
I will work to transform violence, fear, anger, and confusion
in myself and my community by practising a diet for myself and for society.)
(and then he presses kathe -- what is love?)
(and she babbles on about everything being perfect and the bland perfection that is love and on and on and then of course some more tears)
(somehow. . . she utters god is love and everyone shudders and recalibrates)
(like one of those moments when you say i love you)
(without thinking)(on automatic pilot)
(particularly if you have nver uttered before not to them)
(like the way one learns how to love)
(like automatic feeling)
(ok enough of that paul what do you think love is?)
(slow and steady and detached and somewhat intellectual and a little stumbling)
(questioning the validity of the detached response)
(kathe fights the urge to defend paul)
(paul holds his ground)
(the imperfection of love's perfection takes place in a holy moment)
(francis begins to quote keats (ode on melancholy):

Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of DelighVeil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

(everyone is crying a little big now)(maybe paul too deep inside)
(thanks)

(Laura)(sunshine)(huge smile)(warmth)
(kathe immediately quotes irigaray (!?!):

"have you not fallen far enough

to rediscover childhood?

. . . which knows enough

and little enough to push forward . ."

(laura smiles and smiles and smiles)
(and smiles and smiles and smiles)
(and smiles and smiles and smiles)
(and smiles and smiles and smiles)
(warmth)
(sun)
(love)
(kindness)
(liefde)

(beth & claire)
(totally the most adorable of any appointments so far)
(sorry everybody what can we say)
(all rainbows really rainbows)
(what can we say really)
(kathe leaves to have some space)
(comes back to empty champagne bottle and the room kind of upside down)
(crayons are being employed)
(giggling)
(paul will have to fill in the spaces later)
 
paul:

(kuan yin)
(angels, everywhere)
(hanging out in bedrooms)
((boy)friend allergies)

(later a text comes in anonymously: I feel very loved.  Thank you. x)
(thank you xxxxxox)
(stripey)
(penetrating)

 

march 29 naptime

march 30 very early morning (insomnia)

kathe:

Have been up for hours.  Partly just from my regular insomnia and part out of sheer excitement.  Which is really fortunate considering yesterday I was relatively withdrawn or as much as possible.  Not sure if anyone really noticed, although my crankiness is rarely concealed. 

It really helps when I get to inhabit the store by myself before the "kids" get here (although I am sure they think of us as the kids) and before even Paul wakes up.  It's kind of a conundrum really . . . I love to be up before everyone else, I crave the silence and the intensely early morning but I do love waking up and hearing someone rustling around, taking care of things.  I love waking up and smelling the coffee being made.  I love being brought my breakfast in bed.  I love being cared for.

Yesterday Paul and I moved around each other.  He was able to get a lot of work done between appointments, arranging his trip to Moscow, getting caught up on responsibilities here.  I felt overwhelmed with the site and found it hard to delegate.  I don't know if it was even possible to delegate anything but then I always feel that way.  Like a dog with a bone, that's the other side of control.  I've been working really hard here and for a while, back at home, to not control or manipulate, to let love come to me or even if it isn't love, to just stay on my side of my skin.  But the other side of control is to let people in, isn't it?   I have so much trouble with the idea of a semi-permeable membrane, I'm all about complete enmeshment or total banishment, or have been.  God, sometimes it's just baby steps.

But then the other night when I was telling Paul about my fears of the major decisions I am facing in love and life once I get back to the States and he looked at me with his steady gaze and told me that "knowing me the way he does" he couldn't imagine me not doing the right thing, the very right thing, following my intuition (which is what I tell everyone else to do).  "Knowing me the way he does."  I loved that.  I love him.

But anyway, yesterday Paul got caught up and I still fell behind and I kind of hated him, just for a moment, that kind of jealousy that you feel when someone you love has some space or ease, it's really petty.  I know he would help me if he could.

I made plans for Rosie to come and rescue me, get me out of the store and into the café to eat some sweets.  Unfortunately the only time she could come was when Paul had scheduled an appointment with some old friends of his (one an old crush!).  I know it seemed suspect (and kind of "outside" of our arrangement) to make a personal date while we were supposed to be working, but I needed some girlfriend support, I needed a break and I needed dessert!!!!  I think Paul was a little surprised when I excused myself from a love appointment but he seemed to get on quite well with the girls and there was an empty bottle of champagne on the table when I returned and a lot of giggling and I was just in time for a hug and a picture and I was purring after my rhubarb crumble and clotted cream, and I'm sure Paul was relieved about that!

march 30 fresh air



(girls on holiday)
(eating gummies)
(on their way to a parade)
(say pizza)
(say cheese)
(be with me)

(DaDagerous)
(hugeness)
(desire takes up space in a wonderous way)
(questioning everything)
(what happens when passion takes over)
(health sanity insanity breaking way the heart the soul the life)
(kathe voice of sanity?)
(then defends her place in the realm of loss of control)
(laughing much laughing)
(paul comes forth with stories of passion)
(passion & the artificial construct of time & space)
(interior space & exterior space)
(relationships that break all the rules)
(did I bore you that much)
(no no no)

(. . and beyond dreams lives a truth

so faint and so colossal in dimension

only those who truly love shall bear witness

2 the gentle whispers of an innocent heart

that was cool!

david onenness)

(apple)

(mira)
(heart the size of the cosmos)
(the perfect perfume)
(paul follows the scent around the store)
(moschino love love)
(the wonder of the secure family & ripple of the strength within)
(kathe learns from mira about herself)
(the security in knowing oneself)
(slowing down to honor the ability & speed (& depth) with which one can integrate love)
(honor thyself)
(no fear)
( . . I love freedom . . for myself & then for the world .  . )
(Volim ljude i oni bi trebali meduso bno da se vole mnogo jace!
Hvala dragi moji)

(joan)
(regal beauty)
(is this performance art?)
(is this live art?)
(will we be removing our clothes?)
(you can do whatever you like in the love palace?)
(we won't be removing our clothes)
(being)
(paul describes his being snail)
(the trance that takes place through total concentration)
(licking the walls of a greenhouse)
(the trance of being oneself under duress)
(the trance of long term love)
(" . . we toddle along . . ")
(love with & without children)
(the love of an only child)
(writing beauty)
(being beauty)
(beauty)

(oh eldina)
(sweet thing)
(creative)
(creature)
(where do we begin with you)
(giving you the full treatment eldina)
(because we love you so)
(wanting to shower you with cakes & sweets but you had already had some)
(your cut off jumper over your dress)
(confused about love)
(but laughing)
(you are love)
(given permission to be everything)
(then everything)
(being everything)
(eldina's cupboard)
(creativity like orgasm)
(kathe remarks we can handle more of everything)
(we just don't know how)
(to be/feel it all)
(high)(high)(high)
(here)
(now)(more more more of you)
(more more)
(love)
(idea of you)
(you)
(thank you)
(idea)

march 30 almost midnight

(the end is coming)
(the last episode of kath & kim)

march 31  middle of the night (trip to the loo)



(employee bathroom)

March 31  afternoon hits a wall

paul:

I realise it’s now almost three days since I wrote a proper blog entry. I’ve been very tired. I still am very tired. Like camping holiday tired. Like really need a good night’s sleep in my own bed tired. And a nice long hot bath.

Wednesday was a day of stimulation, of loveliness, of intimacy and of space. Thursday there was amazing intensity, awe and relief. I’m really feeling what I wrote a few days ago about this project being bigger and more important than both Kathe and myself. As much as we’re both catalytic in the process that takes place, the heart of the work is the people and the lives and the love that they bring and share. This is at once awesome, overwhelming and somehow debilitating. It’s not about us, it’s not about us at all. “Detach with love” Kathe says.

march 31  one week



(sabine)
(kathe and sabine meet in the store & browse a little through the clothes)
(sabine beautiful)
(graceful)
(talk turns to horses)
(turns to flow)
(flow turns to deep need)
(is it need or connection)
(is deep desire necessarily obsession?)
(addiction)
(flight animals)
(attraction to intense focus)
(lateral thinking)
(due a highly choreographed & creative hen party sabine excuses herself from the closing party)
(she will be missed)
(communication)

(emily)
(kathe loves a return patron to the love palace)
(it is emily's birthday & she has brought a cake)
(& strawberries & homemade meringues & whipped cream)
(kathe is excited as the chocolate ran out the day before & the store has been to short staffed to run for more)
(it was last may when emily came for love)
(she is shiny & bright)
(plans are made to travel to ibiza)
(to be a podium dancer)
(much discussion on polyamory)
(kathe wonders if nonmonogamy is an old fashioned word)
(she feels old for a minute)
(emily likes nonmogamy too)
(kathe asks for news from the new lesbian front)
(same old news)
(for polyamory/nonmonogamy=communication communication  communication)
(emily stretches out on the bed)
(love to see you happy)
(love to see you happy)
(love to see you happy)
(lots of love interests)
(moving past the horse whisperer)
(it's a good thing)
(putch more camp/gay man masculinity . . . the other butch)
(appropriately klub fuckk)
(questioning the therapy construct of love for one hour)
(kathe shrugs it off)
(says it's what works for now)
(love)
(love)
(wahoo energy)

. . . . . .

(paul took the day off)
(kathe slacked around)
(lots of time in the cafe staring out the window)
(recovering from the eclipse)
(or something)

March 31  evening

paul:

Today I’ve had the day off and it seems to have done both Kathe and I a lot of good. As much as this place is our joint home (albeit a temporary one), conceptually I am a bit of a houseguest in Kathe’s project. She’s a perfect and and accommodating hostess, as I’m sure I’m a perfect and considerate guest, but there’s still a certain effort involved and an understandable tension that results. That said, we’ve gotten over ‘the hump’ and now look forward to a final two days with renewed energy and purpose. Time seems (as it often does to me) an abstract concept – the past eight days seem like a lifetime but also just like a blink. Two days left and it’s gone. Space too has ceased to have meaning. I used to think the Bluebird was at the bottom of the King’s Road, but it now feels as though the rest of the King’s Road might not exist. Indeed, the rest of Chelsea, London, the world could well have gone. Our microcosmic movie set room in our movie set street (with well-timed passing buses and choreographed pedestrian extras) has developed a certain security as well as a claustrophobia. As I stood outside the front door earlier this evening, I flirted with the possibility of crossing the courtyard to the edge of the pavement. This filled me with a rush of excitement but also a quiet trepidation – what if I looked up the road and decided just to run?

april 1 ecstatic love





(david)
(so much going on)
(Yoshi weaving in and out with his camera)
(film crew)
(david repeatedly worrying that he is not getting his love due to the chaos)
(kathe giggling & touching his knee reassuring him)
(giggling)
(david is a star)
(it must be love for kathe has given him the red chair)
(her domain but he commands the space)
(david avoids a difficult question by fixating on the toblerone)
(kathe touches his knee)
(wild gift)




(emilie)
(lovely)
(the story she tells of her father eclipses all other memory)
(in the month before he died he traveled to be with her)
(he took a walk in the woods with a friend of hers)
(Emilie could not be there)
(he fell asleep several times in the forest)
(after his death emilie returned to this forest)
(and slept there for a month)
(alone)
(in all the places that her friend remembered)
(her father sleeping)
(kathe asks emilie if she is in love)
(emilie smiles)
(energia)
(amorosa)






(paul)
(ana)
(paul tells kathe later that it went ok)
(his first time loving alone)
(it was a little awkward to start & he got confused about the pictures)
(but he remembered that kathe said that it's all ok)
(whatever happens)

paul:

(hangovers)
(pop justice)
(2 month love bliss)
(mexico)
(squat parties)
(comfortable quiet)
 
(brilliant)
(breeze)

(felicity)
(lynn)
(warm hugs)
(best friends)
(it is felicity's birthday)
(kathe launches into a long monologue bordering on tears)
(on love & why she does it)
(she feels fragile)
(she gets the girls all worked up)
(she doesn't shut up but they appear to be enjoying themselves)
(kathe talks about feeling like Hansel & Gretel with no evil witch)
(abandoned siblings)
(this is how she & paul love she explains)
(abandoned durational artist siblings with an innate understanding of each other)
(beyond the actual real time of their love)
(kathe talks about high school camping trips that she hated initially)
(not being the camper type)
(this she explains while wearing a 600 pound hazel brown corset jacket with wide peplum)
(but she persevered on these trips because her parents let her go for the weekend & she was 15 & got to be away with her friends)
(& smoke tons of pot)
(she would have anxiety when the dark came & sometimes the cold)
(but usually on the third day something turned over & she became more of herself than she could ever call up on her own)
(because of living with the fear of the dark & the cold)
(the irrational nameless fear)
(because of living with the fear & not dying)
(she became more of herself & everybody saw it)
(she fell in love with herself & everybody else & everybody fell in love back)
(lynn worries about kathe & paul a bit & comments on their yawns)
(kathe lays back on the bed)
(everyone is beaming though)
(beaming bright & shiny)
(the sparkle of eyes)
(spring)






(armand)
(andy)
(they get it)
(Armando says it is enough to just be)
(kathe says you win the prize like the 100,000th shopper – the ceiling will open up & shower you with confetti & now we will role out the Lamborghini)
(beautiful friends)
(andy paints beautiful still things)
(kathe believes him & pours her heart forward)
(maybe embarrasses him a little)
(tells him that she could feel the stillness in him when he opened the door)
(& tells him how attractive it was)
(how she was drawn to him)
(Armando is an excellent lover)
(he loves with every fiber of his being)
(before the love appointment kathe went for a walk in the staff stairwell and put her head against the wall & prayed for energy)
(she imagined a fish net that she flung out into the world to collect all remnants of all the love she had put out there)
(& brought it back to herself)
(felt it pour through her cranium into her soul)
(she entered the room)
(it was an excellent time)
(stillness)
(blue)






(beate)
(deej)

(paul will remember)

paul:

(hearts and sweets, presents)
(living in a cube in Amsterdam)
(paul is in awe of such endurance and touched by the love that it can inspire)
(beate loves the teddy bear)
(she is a beautiful angel)

(wiy)
(sapphire)

april 1 very late

kathe:

today was a whirlwind day verging on out of control, mostly because it started with filming for this documentary that a woman Gabriela is making for Channel 4 on Erotomania, which actually is not as it sounds.  I at first recoiled when she approached me thinking that of course she was making the same assumption that everyone does, that I am some kind of sex fiend or egomaniac (actually she is making a film on egomania as well.) but it turns out that erotomania is love addiction, in particular the kind of stalker-esque love addiction where one is convinced they are in love with another that they may barely know (if they know at all) and that are convinced the virtual stranger is also in love with them.  In any case, the whole doc is basically on addiction and obsession with love and they came in to interview Paul and I and film a couple of faux appointments:  one with David who came a couple of days ago (and who Paul and I fell charismatically in love with immediately) and one with David Lillington, who I know well enough to feel that the cameras would not interfere with my love of him (and they didn't).

Gabriela and her cameraman Yoshi came early but things never really go as planned in filming with things like line noise in the microphone and shadows of the cameraman falling into the screen and it got later and later and the day got messy and it was hardly "real" but Paul and I did our best throughout it all.  I thought the film seemed really smart and Gabriela really disarmed me when she questioned me about the origins of my obsession with love

I didn't feel like doing in-depth surgery on my childhood which I've talked about ad infinitum with just about anybody who would listen for most of my 20s and 30s (and also had shared extensively with Paul on many late nights). I did weirdly remember this film I saw when I was in high school THE STORY OF ADELE H by Truffaut.  It supposedly was the story of Victor Hugo's beautiful youngest daughter (played by the over the edge and beautiful Isabelle Adjani when she was very young) who falls in love with this young lieutenant who will have nothing to do with her but she is convinced that she loves him and he loves her and she has this hysterical pregnancy and spends all of her parents' money trailing around after him til she ends up in someplace like Tobago walking the streets in her tattered ruby red dress out of her mind and she actually passes her "lover" on the street as she wanders aimlessly looking for him.  Gabriela told me that David Letterman's stalker through herself in front of a train a year ago . . .  In any case she wondered how I got to see this film when I was 16 and I told her that my English teacher had told me about it and then I kind of glazed over and she asked me about him.

I had heard around school that John A had slept with some girls at my school and I decided I was in love with him before I even met him, which tells tons about me and my early basis for love.  My high school was fairly experimental and also large so we could register for a variety of English classes and I chose John's filmmaking class and systematically & strategically moved my way closer and closer to him, ending up on the street in front of his apartment on the upper West Side (I lived in the suburbs by then), casually calling him working my way upstairs (on many occasions).  I guess it was fortunate for me that he realized I was a live wire and never physically touched me (although he ended up marrying a girl a few years older than me) but I think in the end he really loved me too (in some fashion) and never told me to go home but continued to engage me and really brought me forth, taught me things about art and life and I thought about love but I don't know if I was making it all up (oh god, I know it is all so cliché).  I remember he gave me a beat up copy of A CHILD"S CHRISTMAS IN WALES and the inscription inside said something like "I swing from inside these yellow walls (he meant of the school) like an anchor . . ."

I used to sit by his desk in the English Lab during my free time and pass my notebook to him so that he could comment, as my English teacher, on my poems.  They were about him and my obsession with him.  He would read them and say something arch or provocative and then write some comment in soft pencil in the margin and pass it back to me and we would love like that for the better part of a year, til my skin was tight it hurt to breathe on it.

Black Love Song

from my journal in high school 1975 junior year

it's days like today
when I feel the pain
and it hurts like
an old war wound

days when I play
hard chords on myself
days when I
ask myself why

is it that
I feel this
wanting
to feel you in me

wanting
to feel you
wanting
to feel

days like today
when I split my side
sew you in
to me and you

wearing the same air

april 2 last day of love (for now)

(to begin a secret anonymous guest)
(presents, always such lovely presents)
(we like chocolate, we need it)
(trust is hard)
(we love ourselves)
(that is also hard)
(but it’s worth it (because we’re worth it))
(let out that the appointment (love) wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be)
(paul had said her last installation was bonkers)
(oh beautiful one, you are worth it)

(paul's parents)
(june & malcolm)
(on board for everything)
(kathe & paul tried to give them the royal treatment)
(as much as possible on the last day)
(everybody was a little quiet)
(kathe asked june how old they were when they met)
(16 & 17 respectively)
(they were at a dance in East London)
(she played hard to get)
(she was there with a mate of his)
(it didn't take long)
(june said hitched up)
(kathe asked what that meant exactly)
(because in the states hooking up can mean anything in the states & is intentionally vague to blind parents to the intricacies of teen dating)
(she thinks)
(everything was more innocent then)
(we think)
(kathe talked about the kick-in of oxytocin)
(the deep body vibration of a long term relationship)
(a lot of nodding)
(paul says later he hadn't heard that story before)
(about the hitching up)
(love)
(perfume)
(good)




(gilly)
(requests paul)

paul:

(needs some male attention, gets a giggly philosophical campfest)
(swimming)
(crushes)
(hormones, kidneys, lots of water)
(how will I know (if he really loves me?))
(love is a rebellious bird)(carmen:
If you don’t love me, I love you;
if I love you, look out for yourself!)
(the wisdom of dolly parton)
(swimming dogs)




(the lovely wakana)
(the last appointment)
(kathe & wakana fall in love immediately)
(which is good because paul is busy w/ another admirer)
(it is the last appointment & kathe is alternately relieved & a wreck)
(crying)
(mostly on the inside)
(but wakana appreciates the importance of being the last appointment)\
(open)
(beautiful)
(wakana & paul know each other from school @ Canterbury)
(wakana is on a love journey)
(she has tried not to be in love w/ someone who is too far away)
(she (&he) have tried to believe that the timing is not right)
(they met at sequential raves in japan)
(wakana pretended she didn't speak English)
(til he worked hard enough to prove he wasn't on the random make)
(they have lived at opposite ends of the world)
(they have loved other people)
(now is their time)
(she leaves for San Francisco in a few days)
(wakana & kathe bond over their adoration of Koreeda (nobody knows, afterlife, maborosi) & kathe starts to cry a little about the films)
(she says each film of his she has seen has been with her here in the shop @ bluebird w/ paul)
(nobody knows & the abandoned children taking care of each other)
(mabrosi & the slow consummation of the arranged marriage)
(after life & the care of the outside world in their passage from one state to the other)
(wakana remembers a moment with paul)
(a small cinematic moment set in a lunar dune landscape)
(somewhere near paul's parents home)
(where paul told wakana "when I came out to my parents")
(wakana says she comes back to that moment)
(perfect)
(world is a nice place!)

april 2  the closing party

kathe :

the closing party was really sweet.  I thought it wasn't going to happen.  I figured, right, this always happens to me, I throw a party and no one comes.  It really does.  This has happened more times than I can remember.  Someone once explained to me that this is because people think I'm such an expansive personality that I must know tons of people and that if I throw a party I must have invited everybody and that maybe they don't make a difference.  I'm actually pretty shy, though you wouldn't know it considering my chosen medium, but I really value every interaction and rarely rarely ever do anything casually or randomly . . well in any case, everyone came fashionably late including paul and I, who were with wakana in the love palace and rolled out about 5:30.  The champagne started being poured about 20 minutes later and then they rolled out the those Cadbury candy covered chocolate eggs that are so yummy.  It was a small party but a good mix of love patrons, store staff, friends and a bunch of new people (I think mostly coming through the Fritz connection) that were just coming round to the love phenomenon.  I was able to squeeze in a couple of off the cuff love appointments although I was trying to be the bad cop and say we were closed.  Ilkar was particularly lucky because he hadn't showed up for his appointment and I gave him a hard time.  He said he left a message but . . .  h m m m .  He was too cute to be ignored and we had a smoke outside and poured into each other's eyes and talked about being able to have less and less casual sex the older we got and how there's no time for hate.  I think the highlight of the party was when Martin, who I hadn't met but who seemed very enigmatic and fabulous, sequestered himself away in the love palace by himself and was writing furiously, came up behind me and grabbed my elbow, murmuring "one of your dolls has just spontaneously combusted" and when I entered the room there was a small fire on the little attached end table on my side of the bed.  It was the little black rag doll I had made for my mother and had confiscated after her death, I guess dangling into one of the candles.  I have to say that was one, the biggest one, of three small fires, vanilla tealights gone awry, in the last 24 hours (don't tell bluebird).   Either we were really lucky, as we left the candles burning all the time even for an hour or so when we left for lunch, or there was something else combusting . .  When I asked Martin why he didn't just put the fire out, he said "I thought you should see it" and I fell deeply, deeply in love with him then and there and sat on the bed holding his hands and staring deep into his eyes.

april 2 later in the outside world

kathe:

when paul and I left the bluebird shop that evening with eldina & ana to go to the hotel, it was really not that startling, not as startling as I had imagined it would be.  The night was beautiful & kind of warm & it was lovely but in kind of a normal way.  I had accidentally stepped on the sidewalk earlier in the day because the patio was full of souped up sports cars & I had to walk all the way around them to get to the café.  I just put one foot down and it gave me a creepy feeling like I was betraying paul.

april 3  early morning (alone in separate rooms)

kathe:

they put us in separate hotel rooms, across the hall from each other. We joked earlier that we would miss each other so and come knocking in the middle of the night, wanting to watch kath n kim or something. When we came home from having thai food with ana & e it was almost 11:30 and we were beat.   We found out the next morning we had both taken a bath & both watched fight club on the tv, both in our own beds.

when I stepped into the bath (finally) several of the tiny red hearts that had followed us around all week floated to the top of the tub from the bottom of my feet.  In the morning they were still there, stuck to the bottom of the tub.

april 3

remembering after the fact #2

l'origine du monde.courbet.1866

l'origine de la guerre.orlan.1989
      

kathe:

Friday night paul and I finally got on this assignment, from a magazine I've yet to clock the name of, that we had been procrastinating or rather have been too exhausted to work on that required us to have a "discussion" about a work of art, a "head to head" or "eye to eye,"   We had chosen a relatively lesser known work by Orlan, the French conceptual artist well-known for her plastic surgery 'hybridisations.'  It was an appropriation of Courbet's Origin of the World 1866 that showed the lower half of a reclining nude woman (whose upper half was draped with white fabric – her head and face out of the picture) basically a semi- spread eagle shot with full pubic hair, etc . . pretty outrageous for then, pretty realistic painting and kept under lock and key until supposedly, as far as the Orlan book claimed, owned by Lacan and kept in his summer home.  The Orlan work was a photo montage that was a fairly exact replica except the model was a pretty hairy guy, his penis erect and it was titled The Origin of War.  OK, fairly provocative and ultimately humorous for a pair of largely punchy and overtired durational performance artists in love as we kept cracking up and muttering to ourselves for the first 10 minutes or so (we filmed it because we didn't have a tape recorder and the whole shot is my overly expressive Italian hands thrashing about in front of some flashes of Paul's faux military shirt replete with badges).  I haven't transcribed it yet, but we were rolling around on the floor the other night, listening to Paul's deep-evening-news-interview-or-leather-elbowed-professor-lecture drone namedropping cixous, irigary, kristeva, blah blah blah and I sound like a precious teenager dropping names like pussy cock and you know and whatever and excitedly recounting my illuminating sexual history . . . there is a point where I implore Paul to explain french feminist psychoanalytic theory to me and he says something like I don't know what it means but I know it's important here . . I'm sure there's something of value there . . I think we finally got to love and desire as based on lack and is there still love when lack is filled, is lack ever filled, are we ever happy, are we made to be complete or empty, are women inherently lack & therefore is lack inherently creative, does there need to be some kind of violence in order to give birth  . . .  and I did a little lecture on what I interpreted the difference between having sex with men and having sex with women, the connection to my mother's death (for the upteenth million time that week) and a little demonstration on the meaning of my beloved tattoo (which I reprised the following morning for the film crew).  All in all, a pretty entertaining and eternally bonding experience . . . I'll post the link to the article here (if they print it) when it comes around.  (there's a whole bunch of other much more explicit appropriations HERE. -- I'll leave it as a link, lest there be too much sex-love connection, god forbid . . . check it out)

remembering after the fact # 1

kathe:

Before getting into my lament I wanted to remember a couple of stories that got lost in the shuffle.

jonathan - our security

one night paul came to bed and I was deep in the computer and I said (in a business-like monotone) "I read your writing (long silence – Paul standing at the foot of the bed) . . and it sucked . . as a matter of fact you're fired.  Tomorrow Jonathan (the young security guard with 007 aspirations & my lovely doting concierge) will be taking your place and I've had a black security uniform sent over in your size." (I have to say I was pretty proud of myself for not cracking a smile til the very end when my very pride reduced me to tears I was laughing so hard)

april 5 long way home

kathe loves the bluebird staff (one minute before leaving)

(matthew, corey, krassi, michael, sasha, jonathan)

kathe:


On the way home and disturbed I haven't gotten a chance to write more about paul and even more disturbed that we didn't take a final photograph of the each other which is really strange for me not to think of that.

I was so low energy on the last day, not really depressed but a little unavailable.  I was not directly sad, I wasn't in touch with any conscious thoughts but moved a bit as if I was sleepwalking and was pretty non-communicative (for me). 

We sat together for our last breakfast in the café, deep in the Sunday papers like the happily mated couple that we were all week, maybe verging on boring I guess, but soothing like I couldn't believe, a salve, a balm from the rest of my life . . . we both loved our work so much  . .  like preternaturally geeky and precocious siblings with their own language more than a married couple . .  but we did love our full englishs and coffee & cigarettes . . getting along supernaturally well and so kind and thoughtful with each other.  Of course alternately hyper sharp & funny & hysterically intellectual (paul) or just hysterical (me) (tears & laughter).

-- really paul and I just floated away from each other.  It's not like we won't see each other again.  I think we simultaneously, without conversation, wanted no exaggeration of our departure.  I know that I had no idea how to do it.  The closest we came to any kind of closure was a long business discussion on the financial details left to be dealt with and a delegation of tasks.  That felt good and left me with a complete, secure feeling.

 

April 12

paul:

Is it only ten days since we left the project?  It feels like a very distant memory, a story from a different life, somewhere else I used to live.  Which it is kind of is, or was.  Kathe and I have had minimal contact since parting.  We both have real lives and real loves to get on with and (surprising as it may seem) we’re neither of us big sentimentalists.  What we had and what we did was wonderful and will never leave us, but it was an eleven day project and when it ended it ended.  Finito.

If only the heart could be as disciplined as the mind.  After saying farewell to Kathe I spent a sunny couple of days catching up with my sister and her boyfriend (who’ve just moved back from three years in Sydney) and with a very dear friend of mine from way back when.  Then the drive across the country and home to a stack of unopened mail, an empty fridge and far too much time to spend alone.  And then days of sleep, lethargy, smoking too much, clinging to  loved ones, eating ice cream, recounting stories of the project, trying to remember how to work, enjoying work, remembering what my own life is for.

People have asked “is the project going to continue?”, “are you going to do it somewhere else?”, “are you going to make something from this?”. I answer “yes, without me”  “no” and “well, the rest of my life”, respectively.

I had a meeting with my PhD supervisor this morning, we talked about my new research title “Performance art as a perverted manifestation of love”.  Writing this I realise I sound tragically on the rebound.  And there’s a truth in that, but also a truth in the motivation that the embodied experience and experimentation of the public love project has given me.  I was on this track when Kathe and I first met and started falling in love (back in 2004) and I’m back on track now.

The recurring question “what is love?” remains forever unanswerable.  It can, in its blandest form, be just being, and that is one of the most socially important forms. One of my money jobs is supervising offenders on Community Service, and I was telling some of the boys on Sunday about the project (they asked what kind art I do).  After the inevitable laddish insinuations (no, I’m not a porn star) and a few I’m-not-going-to-answer-that questions, a couple of them really got it. Being kind to people, showing brotherly love, connecting.  I felt touched.

Yes, everything’s going to be ok.

kathe:

you are missed

xxxxxxxxxxx