Coming to you live from the kitchen in Jesse's house (a.k.a. Dirty Town, Aus. Population: us), courtesy of Adam, the neighbor man who was drunkenly coerced into giving us his wireless password last night.
After touching down and spending two hours trying to get out of the airport, I was picked up by the generous Timmah and taken to her abode and fed, then had the glorious opportunity to shower and take a siesta. Awoke in time to be fashionably late making the trek over to Jesse's house for the housewarming party which happened to coincide with my arrival.
This house is already the perfect artist commune due to its consisting of two primary- and high school friends of Jesse's and three Californians who came over just to work on this play (four, if you count me - honorary resident, if you will). We have actors who dabble in dance, visual art, music, design. It’s a relaxed creative environment, and the party last night was the perfect introduction to world I’ve stepped into. Imagine Jesse’s father, a musician, and his bandmates, inclucluding an internationally reknowned fiddle player, gathered around the kitchen table for some casual playing. Then the next generation - Jesse, Mona (one of the residents of Dirty Town and daughter of one of Jesse’s father’s bandmates), and fellow high school friend Kate - three of the lovliest women ever seen - stepping up to share the table and play guitar, banjo, sing folksy songs in harmony while Mr. Fiddle guy lends his talents. When the grownups decide it’s time to take their leave, Kate’s boyfriend Chris returns to his spot in the pantry, where he’s set up his two turntables and record collection and has been DJing all night. As other housemate Nikki is traveling, I’ve been given leave to crash in her room when she’s gone. Sweet.
Dirty Town is actually quite an amazing house, a sprawling affair with colorful paint jobs (some preexisting, like the beautiful bright blue kitchen, others - like the mermaid/seahorse/operadiva in the shower/laundry room and the cherry blossoms lining the hallway - the work of the amazing visual artist in residence, Alessandro). The rooms are high ceilinged and large, with a small patio "out back", and *further* back, past the outhouse (oh that's right, the bathroom is out back) is our potential playing space for our Master and Margarita inspired work in progress. Stairs start there and lead to the barn/loft in the back which serves as Matt and Sebastian's room. Everybody, this place is unbeleivable.
Pictures will follow when I figure out a little more about my camera. All posts will be coming to you via other peoples' laptops, and every single person here has a bloody mac. Aside from being reluctant to download all my pictures onto someone else's computer, I need to take a minute and figure out how to fuss with my photos without a goddamn right click button. Once I have them, though, they'll be well worth the effort. This morning I awoke at dawn and headed out back to use the toilet, and the view from the doorway with the pink morning sky backing the bouganvilla growing profusely all over the loft/barn that is Matt and Sebastian’s room was a sight, highlighted further by the wasteland and devastation left over from the night before - beer bottles and and every possible wineglass, cup and thermos that could be used as a drink receptable strewn about; cake plates from the densest chocolate cake I have ever tasted (next to Samin’s) everywhere, most doubling as ashtrays; laundry that had previously lived on the line drying contraption (“hillshoist” - word of the day! Yesterday’s was “bogin”) peppering the ground. Too bad I had to pee and return to sleep too badly to run back for my camera.
The heat is already enough to make me feel fussy and sluggish, but it is of course not even a fraction of what’s to come. Summer’s just beginning here. Anyone else would call the weather so far nice. I’m going to make my peace with the sun, I figure, try and learn to appreciate it, but I have a feeling that after my Australian adventure I’ll be more eager than ever to get to Scotland.
More to come. Man, it's hot.
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