Status of My Life Address [27/04/2008]

d. In the last 24 hours I have been sick. I suspect this is because I ate too much dairy and red meat yesterday, after being persuaded over the last six months to cut back on both those food groups by the vegan SB. But yesterday I went out for dinner and supposed I felt like reverting to a carnivorous state, so I ate kangaroo skewers. I weigh less than last year but not by design. I am not tall and never will be now.

e. I am working three shifts a week at the book store. I am an occasional wordsmith-consultant for a few arts-bodies in Perth. I was appointed to the Board of a small Press here in Western Australia a few months ago and meet with them for half a day every month. I am presently involved with two local writing projects, Cottonmouth and First Page. I have been appointed to the peer-assessment panel for Project Development and Young People and the Arts literature grants managed by the Department of Culture and the Arts since last I wrote about the State of My Life.

The largest job consuming my time is my thesis, the words of which nibble at me like a cloud of mosquitos even when I'm not sitting at my desk. (Really, you want to hear more about my thesis? Well okay then).

My thesis consists of two components; a creative dissertation and a theoretical exegesis. The creative part is planned to comprise eight episodes, each offering a different reading of seascapes and anxious landscapes set in varied environments. Each of these sections broadly correspond with the movement of a wave; from the retreat of the preceding waters, to the growth of the bore wave, first-sighting, inundation, cross flow, loss of velocity, withdrawal and the exposure of a re-formed topography. The sections are all prefaced with a short evocation of the wave using poetic conventions, playing with the page-space as a double boundary that can parallel the wash-zones between water and land. A series of narrative links ultimately draws together the disparate vignettes, so that the final work mimics a delta in structure (all the stories run out to the sea - nifty, no?). Not all of the sections take place in coastal zones: the novel also explores how the impact of a disaster such as the Asian Tsunami can extend beyond the fringes of a country and ripple towards the interior. A wide variety of genre conventions are used within the different sections; from dystopia, to ghost story, to a diarised account.

The subject focus of the theory has honed in on seascapes and other wet landscapes (flooded spaces, coastal plains, littorals and landscapes marked by the rise of subterranean water); environments that have unstable cultural valences, but are rarely confronted head-on. Seascapes are slippery surfaces for the grafting of multiple and often competing meanings, particularly within the Euro-centric/Australian imagination. They are often universalised (initially understood as 'not-land' in a cartographic sense) and romanticised. While much academic work has been done on ideas of the 'vacant interior' in Australia, there is a substantial gap in work done on contemporary notions of the vacant exterior, the shifting environment beyond the edge of continents. The exegesis takes up this thread, situating its analysis within a modern milieu beset by the memory of violent environments including Hurricane Katrina, the Great Sumatra-Andaman undersea earthquake and the Asian Tsunami Disaster of 2004, as well as an anticipated future in which the first of the Pacific Islands will sink and the seas will rise.

The exegesis looks at 'environmental otherness' in the context of contemporary understandings of nature as a source of capricious violence and moral/social guilt. The central argument is that the strange and sublime agency of natural disaster manifests as a latent presence in our experience of seascapes that are not conspicuously catastrophic, as well as those that are. From environmental otherness the theory moves into a discussion of the 'ecological uncanny' with respect to seascapes; whereby familiar settings are seeded with an internal unfamiliarity creating multiple disjunctions in their interpretation. This is an idea with currency in modern psychology (recently distilled as the term 'solastalgia') as well cultural theory and art theory. A discussion of the emergence of the ecological uncanny looks at ideas about the nuclear uncanny, the nature of violence (particularly terrorism) and fear, and the Postmodern sublime. The exegesis argues that we calibrate new scales and methodologies by which to understand these fluid environments as a result of the ecological uncanny. We position ourselves outside of the afflicting/afflicted space - usually by building sites above it, both physically and psychologically (the subject of Chapter 1 of the exegesis). We shift our understanding of the space in time - casting the shadows of former environments over the present, or creating a déjà vu of future landscapes resident in the immediate environment (the subject of Chapter 2 of the exegesis). The result of these theoretical relocations is that we register a sense of the 'ecological uncanny' in both external (spatial) and internal (psychological) fields. Behind each of these re-positionings is a notion of the sacred and the profane in nature (a discussion that runs through the entire work).

The exegesis uses the work of two photographers, Susanne Majuri (Bodies of Water) and Richard Misrach (On the Beach), as well as the fiction monograph The Road by Cormac McCarthy as primary texts to illustrate the theory discussed. Other subordinate texts are also used to demonstrate specific ideas along the way, including cartographic sources, other modern literature, photography, and examples from science, politics and popular culture. The exegesis brings together ideas from canonised theorists (Jean Baudrillard on catastrophe, Paul Virilio on violence, Werner Hamacher on disaster and semiotics, and Jacques Derrida on the nuclear age), as well as writing by contemporary theorists (Jonathon Bordo on wilderness and witness, WJT Mitchell on landscape theory, Max Kozloff on photography) and the ideas of writers working outside of academic discourses (Nicolas Rothwell on uncanny landscape, Michael Chabon on apocalypse, James Hamilton-Paterson on the ocean).

My studies started as an MA but have now been upgraded to a PhD, which sees me finishing mid-year next year. The working titles are 'The Water Library' for the creative piece and 'The Rise of the Edge: Catastrophic seascapes and Other Wet Landscapes in the New Ecological Uncanny". The last title is all pomp. In fact both of them will probably change. I am busy then. The job I most enjoy is the thesis (even though this is the most stressful part of my life presently), followed closely second by the work at the bookstore.

f. There are new understandings about the space behind my eyelids and the motivations for my actions since last I wrote this annual report. Some of these understandings are so small they do not bear mentioning here. Others are so large they are inappropriate to mention here. Of those that I will mention here, on the negative side of the equation: I have come to realise that I have an over-developed sense of emotional empathy for other people, and that whilst this might improve my abilities as a writer it does not help me to achieve any useful clarity or indeed to help others. I have come to realise that I amplify the weaknesses of people who love me on equal, or greater measure to augmenting their strengths, and that in people with certain personalities this can prove to be more destructive than any the positives my love can inspire. I have learnt I have a great capacity for self-sabotage. On the upside side of the equation: I have learnt that I have more emotional fortitude than I thought I had. I have learnt that it is also productive to stay still, to stay only in the instant moment, to listen and not to talk. I have learnt that to be more self-possessed does not entail being excessively introspect, that it is found in the minutia of doing both small and big things.

g. I am not religious, but I believe in core morals that could be construed as a personal spiritual ethic. In saying that, there have been times that I have prayed, in some form or another over the last year. There have been times where that has seemed the only appropriate response, particularly in the presence of sudden death or severe illness. Maybe it's more like creative visualisation than prayer, although that sounds too much like The Secret. I have seen things my subconscious has recognised as omens and I have sought signs of shifting luck, although I've always had a cautious optimism about these indicia. I've acted counter to those signs and regretted it. My dreams have been vivid and filled with internal symbolic valences. I have faith in other people, I have faith in myself. I meditate because it's the only way I have to get quiet. I believe in the curative power of good conversation, exercise, clean food and a sleep in a bed where the sheets smell like rain.

h. I am currently single. I have had two short romantic entanglements over the last year, but none have lasted or progressed to a depth beyond initial (albeit intense) fervour. Both these romances were with good men with some turbulence in their lives, who were leaving the country. It's a modus operandi I'd like to change, although both made me very happy in our truncated time together. I suspect that I spent a long time walking around with my heart strung like a valentines' balloon out of my chest since last I wrote this report; a thin skinned heart too high for either me or anyone else to reach. This is undoubtedly a reaction to the end of a long-term relationship nearly a year ago, and its' later revelations. I have been untrusting and to some degree insular beneath an act of charm. But these days I am feeling much more whole again, because after all this I am no longer heavy with the past. I think that only in the last month or two that I have pulled my heart down from the air and put it back where it belongs. It is of course, frightening to be in this place. But Hey Lloyd, I'm Ready to be Heartbroken again. Should I meet the right person in the right headspace, and for that I am happy to wait and wait. Meanwhile, I develop rolling crushes on men with lovely forearms and/or careless haircuts.

i. I am saving to go and see my sister over in Holland later in the year, so find myself relatively debt free and with a few grand tucked away for a ticket. The money I was paying in rent at the Park House now goes into a locked account where I can't touch it. I plan to go for a month, and also go to see my relatives and friends in the United Kingdom whilst in that part of the world. I still owe the Australian Government some astronomical sum in HECS fees, largely for my law degree. I have finally paid off the student loan I owed for the purchase of my car. While I seem to have a bit of money presently, I suspect that on return from the European sojourn I will once more find myself broke.

I do not take drugs. I do not smoke and never have, although I don't mind other people smoking around me. I do drink, but increasingly I drink less. I never drink at home. After about three glasses of wine and I'm telling stories about sea creatures (the recreational interest of my thesis) so that's probably best. In summer I drink g & t, now that it's cold I mostly drink red wine. I have one coffee a day, sometimes not. If I have more than two coffees in a day I feel like I can see through time.

j. I am currently reading The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Dìaz, Something to Tell You by Hanif Kureishi, Maps & Legends by Michael Chabon and some less interesting theory books for study. My favourite two books since last writing the S.o.M.L.A have been Actual Air by David Berman and Seven Tenths, the Sea and Its Thresholds by James Hamilton-Paterson. The last movie I saw (I am somewhat ashamed to admit) was Vantage Point with DL when we were both too tired to go out on a Saturday night. The last DVD I watched was The Squid and the Whale. The last gig I went to was In the Pines, where I really enjoyed The Tigers but had to leave before SP played (which was a shame because apparently that was a lot of fun). I liked standing in the sawdust and wearing a scarf and drinking hot citrusy wine that night. The last thing I bought was a cup of coffee this morning. The last meal I cooked was spicy veggie burgers with cucumber and homus in pitta bread.

k. I have not visited any different countries since I last wrote the S.o.M.L.A, although I did go to Newcastle for the first time last October. I quite liked it there and I hope to go again for the This Is Not Art Festival later in the year. I think I may end up spending some extended time in the Eastern States after I finish my thesis, but it is too far away to consider seriously just yet. Other countries I would like to visit in the future include; Turkey, India, China and the States.

l. I am a member of a book-club, a political party, International PEN, The Concrete Organisation, an informal set of people who walk aimlessly at night and sometimes write down notes about what they see. I do yoga every week at a studio in Leederville. I am left-handed. I have a broad constellation of moles. I like the smell of old steel nails, interesting facts about skyscrapers, the Latin names for the stellar seas and growing edible plants.

m. For my birthday I will go out tonight to have a meal with friends. I have had numerous texts and messages today that have made me smile. My mother bought me a pair of boots for my birthday and my sister has sent a parcel which is yet to arrive. I have cards from my grandparents and a voucher for a massage (which I am so looking forward to) from three of my international friends. I will drive home in the evening tonight amidst the most impressive of electrical storms.

n. It's been a hard year. I've tried my best to be a good person, but there are certainly instances where I have not been. Instances where I've compromised when I shouldn't have, where I've held onto anger when I should have let go, where I've failed to forgive myself. But there have also been achievements, realisations and - goddamn it - laughter. I have danced all night. I have run five laps without stopping. I have been rendered speechless by art and by nature. I have changed my favourite animal three times. I have felt the sun on my shoulders while I swum in the ocean. I have felt passionately about an idea and argued for it cogently. I have worn through three pairs of shoes. I have started a project and ended a fight. I have had so much pride in and love for my sister in particular, despite being so far away. I have changed my opinion and accepted a perspective. I have stood on the top of the hill at sunrise. I have written well. I have been surrounded by the most amazing people, who ceaselessly inspire and drive me, who believe in me. People I have been able to give back to. These gifts are immeasurably precious to me.

Outside it is the strangest light before the coming rain storm. I am 26 today.

Status of My Life Address 2007, Age 25.