Pencils

I'm struggling to get out of depressed mode. I'm in the habit of rolling over in bed of a morning, still believing that whatever I'm dreaming about is more interesting than what I've got on for the day. That may still be true, but dreaming is like being pissed. No matter how good a time you are having, once you wake up you only have vague memories of what went on. A face, the jist of a converstaion, a St. Bernard whistling showtunes as you ride him through the KFC drive-thru. It's all the same these days. It's hardly worth it. But it's hard to change habits. Goodbye Lucky, I'll miss you, old boy.

My energy levels are way down. I think it comes from cutting booze, cigarettes, and just about all sugar and fat from my diet in one fell swoop. I'm not saying it's bleak up here, but I'll be living-it-up on anual leave in Rawanda - thank you, Mr. Dangerfield. Pay day is the furthest point of a fortnightly cycle away. A single box of groceries costs $43 dollars to ship-in on the barge - or is that 'barge-in' on the ship? We're in no dire position, just on rations. The big carrot looks like it might hold out until October.

I've begun a morning routine to center my energy, increase my strength and flexibility, all the time stripping fat from my knees, elbows and ears. Energy is a funny thing like that - the more you expend the more you actually have (to a point, obviously). I was actually surprised at how many sit-ups I can do, and equally surprised by how few push-ups can follow. It can only improve - one of the few perks of being shit at everything.

Routine, it seems, is what gets most people through the day up here. I've found myself taking on a lot of menial tasks and taking great pleasure in them. Because they needed to be done. I emptied seven boxes of apples into a fridge today, stacking them procariously, six at a time, knowing that they'll have to be unpacked back into the boxes on the weekend. By me. But that was good. I'm part of a process. And those apples are going to make a lot of kids happy on the weekend. And I was part of it.

I was peeling bananas the night before. If monkeys ever joined the workforce, that's the kind of job we'd handball to them. I peeled so many bananas that at one point I thought I had accidentally turned gay. But it needed to be done. And I was glad to be helping.

Even today, just making calls, ordering stationary, that kind of shit, made me feel good. Because once that stuff arrives, things will happen. Shit'll get done... eventually. We're still on Territory time here, people. Let's not get too excited.

There's a flim that Katie put me onto - Before Sunset. One 90 minute-long unbroken conversation. An interesting experiement in film. In it a women laments (and I'm paraphrasing here) - 'A friend of mine works in an organisation in Mexico. The sole purpose of this organisation is to get pencils to children at schools in disadvanted areas of the country. She's a brilliant mind, she could save the world, but she never thinks that big. She thinks about individual pencils going to individual school children.'

These are the beautiful people - the true humans. I am not one of them, but i enjoy walking in their shoes... because the ground up here gets really hot.