Apart from notes, no media exists from the first week of November except – randomly enough – this photo of a balloon inscribed by Yohan at Varun’s birthday dinner thing at Yong Green Food on Brunswick St on Wednesday the 7th:
Category Archives: killing the backlog
For the first time in its seven-year history, Teh Fields has fallen seriously dormant.
At time of writing, I haven’t posted here in nearly six months.
This certainly hasn’t occurred due to an absence of stuff to blog about. Indeed the exact opposite.
I feel very torn about whether TF still has legs these days. But it’s been so important to me in the past – and for such a long time – that it’s extremely hard to just give up and declare it dead. And pretty much impossible to abandon it to a slow lingering death of neglect, rather than putting some kind of at least semi-decisive fullstop on it.
Anyway. How am I? Okay. Feeling slightly weary and wartorn between one thing and another, and very ready for winter to be over. But it nearly is. \o/!
I plan to spend the time between now and my birthday on September 14th hibernating regeneratively and getting my house in order – which includes undertaking the epic, long-procrastinated and hopefully cathartic task of updating TF retrospectively with documentation of some of my zany 2012 adventures.
Depending on the extent to which this latter task seems rewarding and worthwhile or more like taking a reluctant zombie for a walk, we’ll see what happens.
Vale SRC. I’m gonna miss you hugely in some ways; in other ways not so much. I’ll certainly miss your Xmas parties. Or maybe I’ll just crash them.
The following was captured at Harrie & Atkins’ house, at some point quite far into the 17-odd hours’ worth of extended shenanigans.
Messy night; messy audio. But I like it.
For the Facebook-equipped, here’s a link to the Dinner Party Project manifesto.
This all started the night before G’s Picnic at Prudence, when – in a sudden, entirely-non-drug-induced moment of feeling like I was peaking on fucking awesome drugs – I was compelled to inform my friends Vicwie & Kav that they would, at some point in the near future, be coming to dinner at my house.
Four other superstars from my work (including the legendary Bourkie) were subsequently invited. And Toots, obvs.
It occurred. It went off.
The rest is currently in the process of going down in relational aesthetics history.
(In accordance with her wishes, all of V*cw*e’s audio parts have been edited out; the excisions are marked with bleeps.)