wed 29 jun
by Pierce Eldridge
A late rise. Colder in bed this-morning. A gentle rain taps at my window. No dreams, that I remember. A big stretch of my mind into the following day’s plans. A message from a friend regarding the search for a new home. A rumble in my stomach to be fed. The thought of Dickinson, ‘the swamps are pink with June.’ Text messages from home with club tracks I should ‘bop’ to (~BRAND NEW BITCH by COBRAH~). Movement around the house, doors closing, faucets swivelling, water running. Birds making snoozed calls. My water bottle, jangling in my hands as I unscrew the top, half full. The chest of drawers table filled with: prescription drug PrEP, an Ilford XP2 400 Black and White film, a little vile of gold glitter with pink ribbon at its lid, a various array of crystals quartz, agate, rose quartz, jade, smokey quartz, a guasha, two sets of tarot cards, hand sanitiser, the universal EU plug from when I went to Italy, eucerin antiredness cream (used once), burt’s bees chapstick, a pencil and eyeliner, hairbands, one pence, a faint covid positive test, two candle sticks and a growing agave.
I do this as a sort of meditation, half awake from bed.
I go to the kettle, for some reason the instant coffee hits the spot for me this-morning. Perhaps it’s because it’s in an orange mug. I comfort in a lot of yogurt and grains (again).
I put on ~Concerto for Violin and Orchestra II. by Philip Glass, Adela Anthony, Take Yuasa, and Ulster Orchestra~. I place the yogurt and coffee beside a pile of dust particles, or collection of my skin and hair, so I’m free from holding objects for a moment to just sit and listen.
I roll my weight back to lay on the ground, propped up by my elbows. I let my head hang, my eyes’ direction facing the ceiling. I close them and let out a sound that’s both restful and gently agitated. Doing so helps me become more rested than restless.
I daydream for a moment of short-shorts, warm sand beneath my feet, that cuttlefish I saw on Yunbenun (Magnetic Island) early last year. I think of something I’ve been writing, I’ll place it here (called): ~friends again~
~Waking up late, your head beside mine
~Stretching out and taking our time
~The sand is hot, the surf is cold
~We take a moment to dive and fall
~Your eyes on mine, my eyes on yours
~You splash my face and I splash yours
~It’s gonna take time to be friends again
~Gonna figure it out, gonna pack my clothes
~It’s gonna take time to let our families know
~I loved you once, I love you more
~Whatever you need, just give me a call
I will finish my coffee before I have a bite of the yogurt. In fact, I don’t touch the yogurt again for another 50 minutes and proceed, instead, to eat it very slowly through a meeting from 10am to 1pm.
I take out the Radiant Rider Waite Tarot.
I pull Temperance for the day. It feels so right.
~in Temperance there is alchemy. It is about blending, mixing, and combining diverse elements in a way that creates something new and even more valuable than its separate parts.
It’s a reminder to have clear, long-term vision of what I want to achieve.
~you are not rushing along; instead, you take your time ensuring you do the best you can to moderate your achievements, guided by an inner peace with patience and listening.
I don’t munch on a ~lunch~ so to speak, but I have a handful of cashews and a heap of water. Instead I focus on packing a few of my clothes into a suitcase whilst dancing to ~Jupiter~ by The Marias.
~and now I’m waking up with you
~the sun is blasting in this room
~I’m loving everything you do
~And I’m drawing pictures next to you
So breathy, so sexy.
I feel a certain tiresome romance to the day. I message a friend and we talk about our fragility.
They say to me, ‘I think [there’s] something about the contradiction of your self image of being boundless and all-resilient and being needy and a person made entirely of soft underbelly’.
They say I am ‘everything and soft porcelain’.
I think about this as a heavenly way to die.
I think we’re all a bit of everything at once, or so Latour would have you know.
I think about forests as my version of everything.
I think of those amongst the forest, in the ranges of mountains, the eco-kindred weaving, sowing and harvesting ecological particularities and thinking into their lives.
I think of soon escaping to a forest.
I walk to the Costcutters to grab an onion, garlic, ginger, diced tomatoes, coconut milk, vegetable broth, a lemon, spinach and some rice.
I’m going to make a very easy green lentil dahl for dinner. It’s the sort of one pot stop that makes my belly say ~yum~.
Before I start cooking I eat a few heatwave hot chilli Doritos, because I’m addicted to the simple pleasure of a snack that makes a ~crunch~. I proceed to cook.
My favourite part of the process is dicing into the ginger. Smelling the garlic sizzle. Slicing the onions and hearing them sizzle. I add some spices, garam masala, paprika, cumin, and some dried coriander. I mix all in the pot, putting a small saucer of rice on, and bring to a boil.
In 34 minutes everything is ready to eat, so I serve with a heavy drizzle of lemon and some dry spinach. I curl, with my spoon, the spinach into the hot lentils and rice, which makes it wilt but not too much.
I have to continue packing, but tonight I will treat myself to a few mini-Dorate pieces of toast with Nutella smeared across one side.
I’ll find some time to read and get some sleep.
Hi, I’m Pierce (they/them) a curator living in London. My practice is deeply rooted in an entangled existence with ecological systems and the knowledges they hold, produce, and share.
You can find me at: insta and how to furrow through small spaces:
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