>>>>From: Teri Hoskin
>>>>To: Thomas, Sue
>>>>Cc:
>>>>
>>>>Subject: RE: tremble
>>>>Sent: 24/11/99 13:34
>>>> Importance: Normal
>>>>> > > >
>>>>> > > > tremble. ..now there’s a word
one
>>>>>must be ‘in’.
>>>>> > > > To be ALL (everything) a tremble.
>>>>> > > > Cold - more sustained than a
>>>shiver.
>>>>>Fear- terror.
>>>>>>The old
>>>>> >>saying,
>>>>> > > >someone
>>>>> > > > walked over my grave. Always
>>>>>involuntary, I can’t
>>>>>>make
>>>>> >>myself
>>>>> > > >tremble.
>>>>> > > > hmmm, 50 words. In beginning I
am
>>>>>alone without you,
>>>>>>are you
>>>>> >>reading
>>>>> > > >this
>>>>> > > > tremor? Could we make something
>>>>>tremble?
>>>>> > > >
>>>>> > > > ah...64
>>>>> > > >
>>>>> > > > ...is not this sufficient? Our
>two
>>>>>bodies spread
>>>>>>across the
>>>>> >>world
>>>>> > > >yet our minds joined together in this
>one
>>>>>place, this brain
>>>>>>place,
>>>>> >>this
>>>>> > > >locus of everything thought and
>>>imagined...
>>>>>and we have the
>>>>>>POWER
>>>>> >>to create
>>>>> > > >more from it, and more, and MORE... is
>>not
>>>>>that enough to
>>>>>>make them
>>>>> >>afraid?
>>>>> >>
>>>>> >> frenzied drums clanging. I’m lucky here, it’s night,
wind
>>>>>down time,
>>>>> >>beyond
>>>>> >> the office phone call. I read LMW’s score- her writing,
>>>>>lyrics and
>>>>> >> direction for a festival show here. It made me cry, and
>>>>>shake. I had
>>>>> >>to
>>>>> >> listen to a woman sing - and now Betty Carter calls
>>amongst
>>>>>the
>>>>> >>drums and
>>>>> >> piano, "someone to laugh with, someone to die for...".
>The
>>>>>crowd
>>>>> >>goes wild.
>>>>> >> I love it when she talks to the audience while they
clap.
>>I
>>>>>wish you
>>>>> >>could
>>>>> >> hear her too. Now if I was net sound savvy...
>>>>> >>
>>>>> >> but I can hear them. I can see you shaking. They run to
>me
>>>>>across
>>>>> >>the wires from your ears to mine, from your head to mine. And
>>yes
>>>>>I am in
>>>>>>my
>>>>> >>office, no drums but the drums you send to me. And I am
>>receiving
>>>>>them loud
>>>>> >>and clear. My head is spinning with the noise of it but I want
>>>>>more. Turn
>>>>>>up
>>>>> >>the volume.
>>>>>>
>>>>>>now it is the bass, low slow, sweet and sad. "can’t keep my feet on
the
>>>>>>ground" the sound of the interval, shiver of the brush across the
metal
>>>>>>cymbol. This is Day Dream. Sue, do you know that shiver that happens
>>just
>>>>>>above the surface of the skin, of the skin but not quite, as though
the
>>>>end
>>>>>>of Me has disapated, trembled , mixed with everything else. It makes
my
>>>>>eyes
>>>>>>fill and blur. Sadness is a strange joy.
>>>>>>
>>>>>>There is that moment when I seem to slip out of my skin. Sometimes it
>is
>>>>>>when I am conversing with someone and I become absent just for that
>>>second
>>>>>-
>>>>>>my mind has lifted out - and then I am back again and embarrassed and
>>>>>>wondering whether they noticed. Is that what you mean?
>>>>>
>>>>>yes, that too. perhaps that’s the day dream. when it happens with me
and
>>>>>music, music and I, words don’t come, difficult to write, to make
>>’sense’.
>>>>>boy there is some hairy stuff palying now, it really bothers me. I’m
>>going
>>>>>to switch it off. phew, gone. (back to domestivc sounds, a door opens,
>>>>>daughter walks around, music gives me a place to go to). I’ve been
doing
>>>>the
>>>>>final edits to lux, the fiddly bits, whilst writing and reading your
>>>mails.
>>>>>I have fallen in love with this writing all over again. It is
beautiful.
>>>>>shall we go on and on and on. shall we do this again when you are at
>>home,
>>>>>not in the office, in your space. while I’m dealing with everday
>bizness?
>>>>>xt
>>>>>ps. i always wonder if they notice too, since i usually notice if
>someone
>>>>>else is dreaming whilst ‘listening’.
>>>>>
>>>>>-----------------yes this is a good time to have a break. I am an in
odd
>>>>>space, with Bernard and Terri-ann in the next room - so fleshly close
>and
>>>>>you on the other hand so far away. You are right. It is time to switch,
>>>>time
>>>>>for you to become me and me to become you. It is almost noon here.
>>Fitting
>>>>>for us. Shall we meet again in 8 hours? You to write
>>>>>first?--------------------------(I am sending this to B and T-a -
>>evidence
>>>>>that we are here)-----------------
>>>>
>>>>I’ll get up at 7am and write then. did you do that wonderful thing at
the
>>>>top with alignment? It is beautiful - like lace. heather kerr would like
>>>it,
>>>>
>>>>will you be home then? you can tell me about your new abode,
>>>>
>>>>I have just finished lux; tommorrow i will scan the best slide then off
>to
>>>>the printers. I’m so excited about seeing it finished - as an
>object-book,
>>>>
>>>>xt
>>>>
>>>>i am here waiting for you to wake up
>>>>please reply to this address - i will receive it faster
>>>>yes i am here in my new house
>>>>it is 8pm evening time and i am thinking about TREMBLE and how it feeds
>>>into
>>>>this house
>>>>I tremble when I think of the pain that drove me here and I tremble with
>>>joy
>>>>that I have reached a place of safety and also when I think of the
>friends
>>>>across the web who held me when I had no strength left to survive a
>moment
>>>>more
>>>>
>>>>yes it is evening here but in my heart the skies are light and dawn is
>>>close
>>>>and the green fields beyond my garden do indeed go on forever
>>>>
>>>>dawn for you was an hour ago - I checked at
http://www.worldtime.org and>>it
>>>>told me sunrise in Adelaide was at 5.57 and already it is 6.50am for
you.
>>>>And currently 20.20 for me. Good morning Teri! Did you sleep well?
>>>
>>>am i late am i late, i remembered a white rabbit on the way to fill my
>>>glass with water. Good Morning Sue. Less crisp, more blurry - but here
>>>anyway. 7.18. a deep sleep and waking with a list of tasks scrolling. I
>>>want to read more about your trembling house...
>>>
>>>my house does not tremble - it holds me while I shake and stays firm
until
>>I
>>>have calmed
>>>
>>>it has much sky above it and at night I step into the open garden and let
>>>the breeze blow about me while I lift my face to the moon and to the
>planes
>>>descending slowly overhead. Sometimes it is the planes which are low and
>>>huge and sometimes it is the moon. There are always, always, stars. That
>is
>>>how it is at this moment. When you are properly awake I will tell you
>about
>>>the sun.
>>
>>i am awake enough for the sun, that is, i am ready, there goes one of
those
>>road trains. I want the sun, and a cup of tea. stck stck for words do i
>>have to make fifty one more than forty nine the trucks are getting closer
>>and faster its ok they slow down later it s the got-to-get-there-on-time
>>crowd rush rush that keeps the cogs turning in a familiar fashion.
>>blithery. stop. tell me about your sun and your day...
>>
>>Of course I am remembering it when you are experiencing it. You have the
>>reality of the rush-hour trucks and the noise and smell and I can sit here
>>at 9pm and imagine the morning. Well, the back of the house faces east and
>>so my bedroom and my kitchen are flooded with yellow when there are no
>>clouds, which seems to be most days. But often I wake at dawn and see the
>>sky looking just as it does when I fly home from America and we break
>>through into morning. The blue-pink streaks which tell me my journey is
>>over. The endless stretch of air and light as i surf into England. But I
>>guess I am always talking about what is *outside* my house rather than
what
>>is outside! While I think of that, tell me about the inside of your house.
>>Which room are you in right now?
>
>good to have a dawn to come home too. this is my study and my bedroom. i
>work in the room i sleep in. less than ideal but it is a very large room
>(one day not just’ a room’, but ‘a house’ of ones own). it has a beautiful
>ceiling rose, applied ‘wet’ a visitor told me. she said this in awe so i
>suppose it is a special skill. i can see the thumb marks where the plaster
>has been smoothed away. The walls are made of stone, very thick, the
>windows are six panes of glass, three small ones at the top with wobbly
>glass in them. we love this house, it is big and remarkable quiet. i know
>that a woman lived here for forty years, i suppose she dies here too, she
>loved the garden. the soil is rich and loamy, the walnut tree is huge.
>there are a lot of fruit trees. look, now i’m outside too. Sue, you wrote
>this >But I guess I am always talking about what is *outside* my house
>rather than what is outside!>. can you tell me what is inside rather than
>inside your house?
>
>inside my house are rooms that I am just getting to know. I’ve only lived
>here a few weeks - like you, I think - but I have already paid for some
>rooms to be decorated. It is the first time i have ever paid for this.
>Upstairs I have only two rooms and a bathroom. A small bedroom big enough
>for the necessary furniture and no more, and that is now deep red with a
>small window opening onto the sky / fields. At the front is a larger room
>painted bright bright yellow and that will be the book room. There will be
>shelves top to bottom and all around. there will be wide bright yellow
>curtains and there will be a rocking chair by the window. This is the place
>for reading and thinking and being alone or musing with good friends and
>coffee. This is where my guests sleep under a yellow coverlet. You see, I
>have these rooms almost formed. The lounge downstairs is still growing, but
>it houses the machines: tv, computer, piano. I am sitting there now. The
>only sound is the CPU fan and my two elderly dogs, snoring. Is all of your
>house yours, or just part of it?
i can see the small red room with the window out to the green and blue. we
rent this house, my daughter and i- all of it is our home. i want another
room, its being ‘fixed’ on to the back, in the way that landlords often do,
haphazardly - it will be another (sun) room/study. there are bright yellow
net curtains in my kitchen. that room is always warm. i must go now and
force some action out of my son, we will b elate we will be late,
thank you Sue, for waking me up. Enjoy the rest of your evening,
xxti