Restricted affect and avoidance of eye contact
are symptoms of many disorders,
according to the DSM five,
except when you are on public transportation,
where they become signs of normalcy
required for everyone's comfort.
To show how sane you are,
sit as still as possible,
avert all gaze, don't speak,
and sit with a hunched posture
as you stare at a book or phone.
See? Only safe, normal people here.
Which is why the man who maintains
his regularly normal behaviors
creates a tense atmosphere
by such obvious transgressions
as moderately pacing around
with an overly large backpack.
I believe that he has tried to look his best,
but his collared shirt is in desperate need of an iron,
and the color and weave of his suit coat
almost matches that of his slacks.
So close.
And I couldn't help but notice how he
chose to stand even when seats were available—
another no no—
chose to stand in brown leather shoes so worn
that his socks showed through large holes in the toes.
And how his brow was pulled into a tight concern,
his face red, struggling to be alone with his emotions,
riding the train as far as it will take him.
All too normal, even if no one will admit it.
———
I've arrived in Vermont for my final residency. In just 8 days I will be gradumacated. I checked in, unpacked, found my paint that I had shipped here, and all was well. We were not allowed to start installing yet, but tomorrow will be a full day—nine to five—of just install. I have to paint the room, and start strategizing my layout.
We are definitely the "elite" now, with people stopping their conversations to turn their heads and watch us walk by.
So far the food is pretty decent, and always with vegan options, so I'm happy. I sure ate crappy in my long transit here, nice to have real food again.
Bina had this amazing epiphany. She told me how she was still struggling with deciding how her piece should be hung, which she planned to hang from the ceiling. She told me how she had a dream that she didn't hang her work from the ceiling and hung it by a horizontal line instead, but then didn't know how that made any sense. But I remembered that her first semester was paper clothing hanging from a clothes line, and I said, you need clothes pins and twine and hang it like the clothes line you did before. See? It makes perfect sense. It was so amazing that she ran out to the store that instant to buy the clothes pins.
Then we watched returning student's video performances. One was about mental illness and depression. It started with a man walking slowly to the center of the frame in front of a very bland cinder block wall, with very flat overcast lighting. This guy must have filmed it regularly, but then played the film backwards, because t-shirt after t-shirt flung toward him and magically slipped onto an arm and over his head. Each shirt had a word on it like anxiety, sadness, fear, doubt, etc. Meanwhile, rather educational descriptions about mental illness droned on in the background. Shirt after shirt, layer after layer kept adding on until he looked like a huge sumo wrestler. He could barely move his arms, and his neck no longer visible, burdened by the weight of the shirts, probably more than 50. And then he walked out of the frame. and it was over. I really liked how I couldn't focus on the narration and the shirts at the same time. I could only focus on one or the other. I thought it created the perfect effect for how a mental illness would just constantly get in the way and distract from everything else one tries to do. And something about the drab, simplicity really worked—not flashy, theatrical, or "dark." It was well done.
Off to bed!
are symptoms of many disorders,
according to the DSM five,
except when you are on public transportation,
where they become signs of normalcy
required for everyone's comfort.
To show how sane you are,
sit as still as possible,
avert all gaze, don't speak,
and sit with a hunched posture
as you stare at a book or phone.
See? Only safe, normal people here.
Which is why the man who maintains
his regularly normal behaviors
creates a tense atmosphere
by such obvious transgressions
as moderately pacing around
with an overly large backpack.
I believe that he has tried to look his best,
but his collared shirt is in desperate need of an iron,
and the color and weave of his suit coat
almost matches that of his slacks.
So close.
And I couldn't help but notice how he
chose to stand even when seats were available—
another no no—
chose to stand in brown leather shoes so worn
that his socks showed through large holes in the toes.
And how his brow was pulled into a tight concern,
his face red, struggling to be alone with his emotions,
riding the train as far as it will take him.
All too normal, even if no one will admit it.
———
I've arrived in Vermont for my final residency. In just 8 days I will be gradumacated. I checked in, unpacked, found my paint that I had shipped here, and all was well. We were not allowed to start installing yet, but tomorrow will be a full day—nine to five—of just install. I have to paint the room, and start strategizing my layout.
We are definitely the "elite" now, with people stopping their conversations to turn their heads and watch us walk by.
So far the food is pretty decent, and always with vegan options, so I'm happy. I sure ate crappy in my long transit here, nice to have real food again.
Bina had this amazing epiphany. She told me how she was still struggling with deciding how her piece should be hung, which she planned to hang from the ceiling. She told me how she had a dream that she didn't hang her work from the ceiling and hung it by a horizontal line instead, but then didn't know how that made any sense. But I remembered that her first semester was paper clothing hanging from a clothes line, and I said, you need clothes pins and twine and hang it like the clothes line you did before. See? It makes perfect sense. It was so amazing that she ran out to the store that instant to buy the clothes pins.
Then we watched returning student's video performances. One was about mental illness and depression. It started with a man walking slowly to the center of the frame in front of a very bland cinder block wall, with very flat overcast lighting. This guy must have filmed it regularly, but then played the film backwards, because t-shirt after t-shirt flung toward him and magically slipped onto an arm and over his head. Each shirt had a word on it like anxiety, sadness, fear, doubt, etc. Meanwhile, rather educational descriptions about mental illness droned on in the background. Shirt after shirt, layer after layer kept adding on until he looked like a huge sumo wrestler. He could barely move his arms, and his neck no longer visible, burdened by the weight of the shirts, probably more than 50. And then he walked out of the frame. and it was over. I really liked how I couldn't focus on the narration and the shirts at the same time. I could only focus on one or the other. I thought it created the perfect effect for how a mental illness would just constantly get in the way and distract from everything else one tries to do. And something about the drab, simplicity really worked—not flashy, theatrical, or "dark." It was well done.
Off to bed!
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