Giving Birth

I got my work back from Larissa.

There were very few alterations (barring bibliography).

Normally, there is loads to do. Today, not so much.

She said that once I've done this last little bit it should be ready to go. She actually said that.

And then the terror set it.

This is the mental equivalent of giving birth. A year ago it was nothing more than a glimmer in Daddy's eye. Nine months ago, my mind got knocked up. There have been pregnancy complications, the possibility of a late delivery and now the Doctor says it might come a day early.

And for the first time in the whole gestation period, I'm scared. Something is coming out me that's big, and life changing. And just like a newborn, I have no idea whether it'll turn out happy and healthy, or if it'll be a difficult delivery that results in retardation, academic retardation.

I'll have the kid regardless. Too late for a coat-hanger or a "trip" down the stairs. But my life will be different in a few days and I'm scared.

But a bun can't live in the oven too long or it spoils - and it hurts the mother too.

I think what is terrifying me is that this is the biggest thing I'll do that has a mark attached, and that mark decides the next step. I want to do a PhD, but I want a scholarship and I'm chasing marks.

I'm waiting to hear back about my publication, but that isn't until November.

I'll be waiting for this too, once it's out. Like it'll be in neonatal care for eight weeks or something.

What'll I be like if I ever become a Father? Although if I get four days of stress every nine months or so, I can't be doing too badly.

Counting

This might well be the last post before The Biggun (as it is labeled on my laptop) is due.

I sent the lot in (words, not bibliography or photos) on Friday.

I couldn't look at it anymore. 15500 is a big number, and it isn't even close to what I need.

I was scared I wouldn't have enough. Now I can't stop.

I looked over what I have and I found a couple of earlier places to wrap up. Not too much earlier mind you, but at a place where I can say "Look, I did something small but cool, and this is the direction it might lead".

Now this doesn't mean I didn't work today. I put my bibliography together (157 references), made sure all the in-text stuff fit and started collecting photos. The pictures won't be too hard to grab (about 1 for every 1000 words - a picture tells a 1000 doesn't it? So I'll have 30000 come Monday) I don't really know how to reference them so that's my problem for now.

When I get my writing back, I can send that stuff to the Boss and fix the problems in the written work. Mash the two together, format, one final look-over and Friday hits.

Then it is all over.

I'm scared, because I'm putting something real out into the world. Thankfully I can shoot it via email since my markers are away, but I will make a concrete copy at some point. I might wait until they send it back so I can edit it further before forking out the money to make it "real", but it will be my first little book.

My first. I can tell this is going to be like a show. Once it is all over there is this massive relief that you did it, nobody died and for the most part people had a good time. Two weeks later you get reminiscent and two weeks after that you get depressed, because it can't be replicated and there is nothing else to do.

Then the next show comes along and it starts again. You take what you did from the last one, add to it and make this one better.

I'm a pretty good theatre practitioner. I'm rusty as all hell (and I'll be doing a short film in November so at least I won't feel totally ceased up) but I'm good. I hope to whatever larger-than-man force you believe in that this will hold for writing.

For now I'm off, but I'm not pulling hair or procrastinating. Just counting words, and counting on a good mark to get to the next place.

Now to count sheep...

Quiet Carriage

Here's a post I wrote (but never published due to lack of Internet connection) on October 4th, around 10pm:

PART I

I just got on the train at Strathfield (NSW) on the way to Gosford and took a nice comfy seat in the front carriage.

Mum called to see when I'd land and we started talking. Then a bunch of people began to give me really filthy looks until one of the nicer seeming folk got up and told me I was in a "quiet carriage" - a place where no conversation - present or remote - was allowed.

After a whispered apology for my ignorance I stepped out and finished my conversation.

PART II (back about 10 hours)

I was on a really long train from Melbourne to Sydney thinking it'd be a good working environment. Lack of internet and no need to really write any non-internet necessary new work made me edit, and we all know I hate editing.

Then these two guys started talking, loudly, right behind me for the rest of my journey.

Where was the F*&%^NG quiet carriage then??!!!?!

Time

Normally I get it wrong in the other direction. I looked at the minutes in the SSCC meeting this morning and saw 16/10/2013.

Nine days is fine. Later that day I met with my Supervisor.

Strangely, I have so much to do and not enough time, but because I had my days the wrong way around I may have inadvertently gone a touch over. One in the bag.

I'm halfway through my third chapter (revise and edit), while The Boss has pulled stuff from the first two into an intro. We talked about due dates (Honours, PhD and just life) before I gave a promise that I'd have a full draft - edited and gap-free - on Friday!

Terrifying, but a very good kick. Larissa also expected that I'd submit digitally (a massive bonus, but considering my "school" probably not that unexpected) which does give me a few extra days.

So I'm in a place where I have much to do and just possibly, exactly the right amount of time.

The knowledge of the time-frame is not just a pressure cooker, but also a release. Once the Honours thing is in, I have enough time to do the rest, which also means I will have everything done before I turn 30!!!!

No degrees at 25. Two at 30. Hopefully, Three before 35.

All it takes is time.

Brushstrokes

I can't drum and I can't paint.

I have great rhythm and timing. I'm artistic and creative. I'm extremely dextrous - physically, mentally and verbally.

But that isn't the point. I'm writing a thesis.

I have two editors. Larissa is an artist and she paints broadly. Neal is a designer and he uses a fine brush.

Larissa gets my material first. She looks at the lot and tells me where I'm missing sections. Neal gets it once Larissa has had a crack and he tells me where I'm missing details.

Today I finished the first two chapters, and by finished I mean they both had a look and I've adjusted it accordingly.

I started work on the final chapter and I found this great through-line - black boxes - which I would never have seen without the two of them.

Larissa feeds me ideas and lets me go wild. Neal sees the result and tells me where to reign it in.

I'm working (paid working) this weekend so not much writing to be done from here, but I'm seeing Neal Monday and Larissa Tuesday which is the reverse of the usual - just as for this post I did my research journal before the blog.

ANYWAY, I'm working under pressure (October 25 is D-day) without the pressure (I actually have until November 22 if I want it). I'm using the editors and the perceived pressure to get it done. If its ready to go on D-day, then I'm out. If it needs more time it can only improve - and I'm happy to take it either way.

The gist is that too many cooks blah blah, but the right amount of cooks working in unison work.

A drum circle is a beautiful thing.

Collaborative art is the same.

I've a great gift in mind for Larissa. Now I might have to get one for Neal.

For someone who is useless with brushes, I'm doing my best not to brush it aside.

Or maybe I'm just stroking a few egos...

That was some truly awful punning...

Back in Black

I'm sort of back. In pretty heavy lock-down, but back enough to drop in here for a little.

Currently working on my two sections. One is just editing, the other almost there.

I was kind of shitting myself when my "holiday" destroyed my writing. Long story short my tech failed so I'm a touch behind - but not too far.

I sent of my latest incarnation of Chapter 3. It isn't finished, but it isn't far off. So while that's gone I'm poring over the rest with the editing comb, and I'm about a third of the way through.

Now I'm not being ruthless, but I'm not being precious either. Larissa has gone over it a couple of times and seems pretty okay for the most part, but Neal had a lot of underlines and question marks, so I'm mostly going over it with his eyes and adjusting accordingly.

In doing all of this I realise where I write best. I basically invent my own framework and just talk through stuff. There are a few really nice paragraphs in there where it is quite clear that its me talking and not just regurgitating other folk's ideas.

So as I go over the editing, I'm trying to find other places where I can throw this in. I revamped an earlier paragraph in the first section and I'm trying to run with that. It's basically a two part idea (what and how) where one thing links to objects and the other to content. It sort of hits steam as interfaces become objects, which is basically by applying remediation to the equation.

I keep editing with the hope of bringing down my word count, but it's so far out of hand I've kind of given up on that aim. When all is said and done I'll be staring down the barrel of a Monash Honours thesis (maybe 18K if I include references) but all in all, even with so much left to do I'm actually not that far off and I'm out of the red.

Which means I'm back in the black.

Dirty Thirty

I'm off to my two oldest friend's combined 30th.

Catching the train so I can do some work.

Probably already told you all that.

Anyhow, I wrote the Convergence chunk today which took me somewhere else. It took me to a place where theatre (and by this I mean co-location in a non-digital setting) reigns supreme.

Again, not that it's better than anything else, but that is distinct. A recording doesn't cut it. A broadcast doesn't get there. Online interactivity still misses the mark.

There is something bigger and much simpler than any form of mediation. Non-mediation.

Not just in the sense that we're both there, we're all in this together, blah blah blah get it into your heads that we're in the twenty-first century.

It is the ability to touch, the most intimate thing in the whole world. I can stare into your eyes until the cows come home - and I can do it from Ghana, underwater or in space. 

What I can't do is touch you. I can do it emotionally, but even this isn't the same as brushing my hand against your cheek, breaking your nose with my elbow, pulling a splinter out of your finger.

I can touch the screen and it does things. I can touch the same screen you do. In no way does this replicate the truth of the exchange.

In the theatre, protocol often dictates we don't touch - but that doesn't change the fact that we can, and this is (as yet) the one place media can't remediate. It can set up a series of very close approximations, but the simple sensation of two people touching can't be replicated.

It's really funny. As a somewhat brave actor, I've kissed other performers, simulated sex and appeared naked in shows but I never took into account the power of touching someone for real. The fourth-wall sets up a lovely, neat barrier that lets me do this stuff away from you, the audience. Character acting allows me to put up a barrier between me and you, the other performer.

I did a show two years ago that had no characters - we all played ourselves. I told a story in a sentence ("For a minute there, I thought I was going to be a Dad.") followed by a wordless scream. It was one of the toughest things I'd ever done because it was absolutely real - and screaming without noise is far more taxing because it offers no release.

My brother and one of his friends came to watch the show. His mate said "that's some good acting" and Liam, who I hadn't told, replied "that's not acting". The next thing that happened in the show was me rejoining the performing group and playing childhood games and night after night someone different would come to me and touch me, on the arm, a hug, a shove, and I'd be less alone.

I can't fuck you or hit you or smell you through a screen. I can simulate it, share elements of it, but it isn't it unless we can feel it, physically feel it. No matter how intellectual, our brains are trapped in bodies and bodies learn through touch. Helen Keller anyone? And for once I'm not being a smart arse.

So I'm off to touch my two oldest friends for their 30ths, because I want to feel the dirt that makes them real. Mediation, no matter how intricate, just won't cut it this time.

Time and Touch, Here and Now

Reading back over my stuff is a nightmare.

I spent ages today moving and rewriting a few paragraphs, only to find that they fit better where they already are, with a few minor alterations.

What this bouncing around has done though is give me slightly better appreciation for what I'm trying to do on the whole.

It's not good enough to say theatre = new media, the end! What I'm really looking at is what specific parts the two share and why this makes them more aligned than every other link identified thus far.

So, let's take a quick look.

The big things I'm approaching are participation, interactivity, haptics and co-presence. By big things, I mean these are the ones that have been distilled from the extra pile of immediacy, hypermediacy, representation, presentation, virtual and actual.

The latter group are means, the former, ends.

What?

Okay.

By playing with the latter, the former can be altered. If I give you an immediate virtual representation, this limits you to a very base level of participation, what I might call passive participation depending on the medium. For example, if I were to buy you a movie ticket, you could watch the film, but you couldn't touch it, edit it, comment on it (while it was happening) or even really do anything other than sit there and watch it - or leave. As soon as you leave, the extremely passive participation (spectator-ship) is over, and there are no links to the film at all. Fake world (virtual), adherent to filmic convention (generally immediate in terms of transparency) and screened after the fact (representation).

If I give you a hypermediate actual presentation, the whole equation changes. "Here's a ticket to paintball" I say. "Enjoy".

Firstly, you're in a group (participant - you actually have to do something other than sit. Actually, even if you just sit that constitutes a conscious act). Secondly, you're in a team (interactive/co-present - teamwork and opposition, which means what you do has an effect on others, and the converse applies). Next up, you have a gun (hypermediate/presentation: sure it's fake - and you know it - but it fires in real-time and the green paint - also fake - hurts when it hits) and to round it out, you have a gun (haptic - you can touch everything).

Pretty extreme examples (I mean, I could have got you conscription to go to war, but paintball seems a little more fun), but what becomes the real deal from this is that time and touch show above the rest.

Time presents across all real-time (what a surprise?) media. New Media stuff can be done as it happens, as can theatre. Film can't. Television is fifty-fifty.

Touch is the other big unit. You can't touch a film (and make changes). You can't touch a TV (and make changes). You can touch New Media and make changes. If you touch anything in theatre, it changes.

All of these (participation, interactivity, haptics and co-presence) are greatly enhanced by touch and time. All of these (immediacy, representation, virtual) have no requirement of either. All of these ( hypermediacy, presentation and actual) are somewhere in the middle, and if played with can have a greater effect on these (participation, interactivity, haptics and co-presence) than these (immediacy, representation, virtual) will.

That's not 100% true, but it's a pretty good general rule, and think if I align my chapters a little more like that I'll be sitting prettier than I am now.

The problem is that today, I lost touch - and time is off the essence. I'm going to write it off as 'calm before the storm', but it's about time I got back in touch with what I'm doing - writing about the here and now.

Did I say this was a nightmare?

Super Quick

Neal gave me feedback on my stuff so far.

Most of it I've already hit (thanks to Larissa), but he raised a good point about what I'll call 'internal clarity', or each sentence/paragraph/chapter relating to the overall piece.

Because a lot of my thesis has been written across different time-spans, not everything fits. Some bits work better than others, but as a whole its a little patchy.

Here's an idea of how to make it work overall:

Chapter One – What is New Media?: Understanding New vs Old.

Chapter Two – Liveness and Co-presence: Theatre vs Recorded.

Chapter Three – Convergence and Hapticity: Where New meets Old.

Overall – Theatre’s character is already in use for each of these, whether to borrow, remediate or predate. New Media’s only introduction is the digital, but theatre integrated this almost as it was born, making theatre “the great remediator” as well as the end-point of New Media. While NM seeks to obtain the character of theatre, theatre just absorbs NM into the repertoire; as such, theatre reigns supreme, the oldest media also being the newest because of it’s capacity to absorb, remediate or converge, regardless of terminology.

That's the gist. Larissa just sent through revisions (didn't see her today) so about to have a look, but I figure if I'm a bit more distinct about my chapters, the whole piece will end up a little more coherent, as crazy as that sounds.

That'll do for now, but watch this space. I have a feeling that the next week has a lot more in store.

Medium talk, Danish.

Last night I went out for my best friend from Monash's 25th.

It was a great night. We went to some fancy cocktail bar and I was wearing flanno (flanny for the Melbournites) so I didn't theoretically fit in at all, but it was great to catch up with the old mates - and some new ones.

What made me laugh was just how easily old friends (re)connect. I arrived on time and it took about 10 minutes for half a dozen of us to describe our last year to each other, at which point we grabbed martinis and talked about now.

By this I mean making real conversation off the cuff, without having to rely on old stories to stimulate input. One of Suz's best mates I'd never met - a Dane by the name of 'Danish' - had flown in from Denmark as a surprise. At six foot eight, the guy was a behemoth, but we hit it off instantly, cracking terrible jokes and talking about the differences between our penal systems.

The drink and the conversation flowed freely, moving effortlessly between big things and little things, but what really stood out was that everyone present could talk to anyone else about almost anything and there was nothing to be embarrassed about, regardless of how well we knew each other.

As a cohort, we made a crack about leaving all of this off Facebook, which we did. For a few hours, we just existed in a world of our own, not answering phones, not being distracted.

Several of us talked about our research, others chatted about work or whatever was on our minds.

As the place closed, I shared a cab with one of the girls and she ended up staying at my place, with all of the things that style of interaction usually entails.

At around 6am, I sat on my balcony with a cup of tea and watched the sun come up. I watched it until I started to nod off, and crawled into my shared bed for a few hours of sleep.

I awoke to a note on my neighbouring pillow with thanks for the evening, some lipstick - and no phone number.

I smiled, then cooked up a great breakfast before riding in to work.

I had almost no hangover, even though I'd consumed the same quantity as a Darwinian polar bear and a giant Danish Ned Kelly lookalike. Sure I burned a fair bit off during early morning 'exercise', but there was something about the nature of the entire evening that just screamed pre-media.

I can't quite put my finger on it but I felt like I was 20 again, with the added bonus of ten years extra experience.

This is what I'm trying to get at with theatre as a precursor to (and aim of) new media. There is something about connecting that can't be done through mediation, but as the world becomes more mediated we have to rely on it regardless. The gist is to make it as invisible as possible, and the way is to skip small-talk, to go straight to medium talk.

If we connect without restraint (except for general manners), we become closer, no matter what the mediation. Theatre has this always in mind, but much new media still focuses on the ability to capture moments, even though lives are not just snapshots of food but the experience of eating it.

There is some slow dramaturgy at work here (see Eckersall) about tangible sensations like eating, knitting, gardening and quite possibly sex that cannot be replicated in static media.

This cannot be broached in small talk either. At the very least we need discussion to begin with the medium.

Again with the English, Danish.

Different Ways too the Same Place

So I spoke to my Mum last night and we talked about our research and writing styles (she's studying speech pathology at Newcastle Uni). She seems to do things the other way around to me.

By this I mean I rant about stuff I know about and am pretty concise with the things I don't.

We also talked about our Supervisors and that goes in reverse too. I send Larissa stuff via email, so when we meet we pretty much hang out, exchange stories and tell jokes over ginger tea, then really quickly talk about the work. Mum sends life stuff to her super and they talk shop in the meetings.

I spoke to a lovely girl at work today who stresses about the work by reading too much then writes everything at the last minute. I write volumes because editing is my bane - the more I have the more I can refine.

I'm off to see another friend doing Honours elsewhere (Monash) who has just finished his performance project and is freaking out about having to write.


I thought I'd be under word count, but I'll be looking at 15-16K on Friday when I'm all written up.

I'm taking the train up to NSW because it gives me more time to write than the usual airplane angle.

Never thought I'd like writing a thesis, but I do. Never thought I'd take the train again but I will. Never thought I'd meet so many people doing research but I have.

Whatever works for you is how you do it. Sometimes it isn't what you think will work, but as long as it gets you there it is totally awesome. No matter which way we go about it, we all end up at the same place.

Windy

Today was both forms of the word, with gusts attempting to blow me off my vehicle as I traveled along my curving pathway.

Another terrible sleep, but the gym session this morning pumped me up to get some serious editing out of the way - and I knocked over the last of the stuff Larissa had already looked through. I got stuck on a pair of leading paragraphs (between the first and second chapters), but opening a previous iteration of my essay and looking at that really helped.

At this point, I'm actually looking at three chapters around 4000 words each - effectively a 14-15K essay. The problem is, it's all good stuff. Methinks I'll need to finish my final chapter over the weekend and start writing an intro/conclusion to get a feel for what is really necessary. If it all works then hey - at least I'm not short.

One particular thing that wound me up was the (to me) annoying convention of having to continually explain (in the form of spelling out) what I'm trying to do. JUST READ THE FUCKING THING AND YOU'LL GET IT. Not that hard.

Larissa did tell me something that made it a little less annoying, which is that my markers are much more likely to read the thesis out of order. The idea becomes more along the lines of putting markers throughout for the markers, so no matter how windy - or windy - there are checkpoints along the way to keep everything steady.

English is a horrible language at times, isn't it?

Anyhow, after doing the latest edit on part 1, I had a look over part 2 and realised that for the most part (again with the English) I'm up to speed there. I need to fold in some Convergence stuff a little earlier and perhaps be a little less abrupt with the Co-presence, which means I can round the whole thing up with some Hapticity, rub my hands together and open a beer.

It's a windy road on a windy day, but I'm staying on my bike and loving the ride!

Balls

I awoke early this morning after a pretty poor sleep. I was tired from the get go, but I couldn't get back to sleep (there is a lot of sun in my room) so I rolled out for a coffee and got to work.

For ease of it all, my work is basically split in two, so for the moment I'll talk about it like that. On the one hand is the stuff I've already received feedback on (Chapter 1 and most of Chapter 2) and the other side is the rest.

I began with part 2. I started cutting out a few superfluous sentences, tightened up a few bits here and there and found a couple of spots to insert some Eckersall. But for some reason I couldn't focus on it, so I went back the first part (earlier than I might've liked) and worked though that.

I added a couple of paragraphs, moved a few things and deleted all the 'red ink' (the comments in Word) Larissa had left that I didn't need, like spelling/grammatical errors, which left me with about 6 things to work on. I just kind of wore it down until I got to this one place that had me stumped.

Larissa had written in a pair of sentences that didn't fit where they were in almost any way - as far as I could tell. What did I do? I stared blankly at them for a while before tearing up three paragraphs to force them in. Silent movies? Lucille Ball? Jesus...

I got a little bit into the process before being overcome with proper exhaustion. So I went for a walk around the block, sat back down and worked through some more.

It isn't done, but it isn't too far off either. I can't spend too much more time on that section either, because I have a lot more to take care of, but if I can do the reverse of today tomorrow (knock out part 1 and fire up on part 2) I'll be in a good place, with - ideally - a full draft, partially edited, by Monday.

The point is that no matter how tired you are, you can always squeeze out a little more, and sometimes that little bit puts you in a good place for when you get back into it. The more you put it off, the worse it gets, so just get it done.

The other point is that I am exhausted. Not physically tired or mentally fatigued, but all of the above at once, and I could really use a good rest, so I'm going to watch the rest of this documentary about a guy with a massive scrotum and stop whinging about my relatively small problem.

4500: Pens and Swords

Today I went to the gym and moved over four metric tonnes in about three-quarters of an hour.

For an 80-ish kg guy with (really) bad knees, shocking ankles (from breaks) and a bung shoulder, I'd say I didn't do too badly.

My trainer/brother was pretty stoked at my resolve, and because we trained together I got to see what my potential might be. He's an inch taller than me, 10-15 kegs heavier than me and can throw almost twice the weight I can. As I loaded his weights onto the bars, I realised that since this year I have improved beyond the point I thought I could do at all, only to see that it's not even close to what I can actually achieve.

After the work out, I rolled home and sat before my laptop. I read over the first round of stuff I sent Larissa. I deleted the (four metric tonnes of) grammatical errors, and sat with the notes, all six of them. There were a couple of 'insert paragraphs here', a pair of 'goods' (do nothing, this works) and a pair of 'Larissa thinks you should write this here'. The first two I'm stewing over, the second two give me hope and the final two I'm not sure I agree with - one because it's in the wrong place, the other because it doesn't seem to fit at all.

After reading that stuff, I dived into the rest instead. I pulled the 4500 words I'd written for the end and started hitting them with a view to refining, rewriting and editing them into something I might use to hit the rest from another angle.

I deleted excess. I moved a few sentences here and there and all of a sudden I found a paragraph in my third chapter to switch with the last one in my second.

HOLY SHIT.

This one paragraph changed everything. It gave me a way to move what I already have into better order (i.e. edit) and fit what I don't into gaps.

I don't want to jinx it, so I won't go into anymore for the moment. Also, I moved a few tonnes of both mental and physical weight so I'm pretty tired, and it's 'Breaking Bad' night if no-one else minds.

Pens or Swords? Which one hurts more? Which one feels better? After 4500, I still can't tell...

Read it and weep

I don't have any writing focus today, so after my meeting with Larissa (which went pretty well - took fifteen minutes and was mostly us just talking about unrelated stuff) I headed home to relax.

Which means reading up on the stuff I need to know more about.

First stop was a quick look at Margaret Morse and Erving Goffman. Goffman looks at the world through the lens of theatre, but in the realm of sociology. No need to go deep, but worth mentioning him along the way. Morse does a lot more stuff with interfaces, especially in the progression from film through TV to new media. She has a little theatre about her, but is more on the side of NM which is what I need to chuck in.

I spent more time reading Peter Eckersall (one of my markers). I had an idea to write some of his stuff on adaptation into the mix, but I found his work on dramaturgy to be more up to the task. There are some pretty good articles that really fit with the convergence idea whilst taking into account the history of theatre. They look like this:

http://www.tandfonline.com.ezproxy.lib.rmit.edu.au/doi/full/10.1080/13528165.2012.696864#tabModule

http://search.informit.com.au.ezproxy.lib.rmit.edu.au/fullText;dn=029826682408264;res=IELHSS

The last of them led me back to Hans Lehmenn, but into a different essay of his I can't get my hands on called "Mirror Mirror, Fourth Wall" in a collection called "Theatre after Theatre".

I really want to read it but I'm also a little terrified that I've finally found the person who has already beaten me to my essay in the form of an old German Professor of performance.

When I do read it I'll cry either way (joy or despair).

Read it and weep you might say...

Sunday

I worked today, and everyone was in a foul mood, which means we all laughed at each other for being so silly. Laughing at it took all the power out of the negative emotions so we all ended up having a good day.

I have some sleep to catch up on because of my fun/work filled weekend, but also because I have a big week ahead of me. Even while I've been having a real weekend, I still managed to take care of most of the little tasks that often get in the way of writing.

Tomorrow I have class and meet Larissa directly after that. I moved my personal training session to Tuesday so I can write directly after meeting the Boss. I have a funny positivity having handed in a draft and getting decent feedback. I WANT TO DO BIG THINGS.

But i can't ignore the little ones along the way. As I do, the big thing loses its sense of joy.

This is very strange to me. I feel really happy with where I am, unlike a couple of weeks ago where I was quite worried. I'm at the point where I could actually apply for a PhD and might even be ready to do it. I've finally been enjoying the lifestyle of an academic, writing about stuff I like and missing it when I'm not doing it. Not missing it like a crutch when your ankle is still tender, or missing it like the girl you were supposed to marry but fucked it up with ambition.

Missing it like performing, like something you just should be doing without 100% knowing why, like when you get up on a nice day and smile, even though you like the rain.

Sunday is my liminal day, the day that everyone has off and I almost always work. But on days like this, work is fun, so it isn't really work.

Sunday puts it all into context. If I can sit here at my clean desk with my neat computer while a documentary plays in the background and enjoy the first-world happiness associated with writing about myself to myself, then I can't really complain. The things will happen when they do, and I won't miss out on anything as long as I'm happy with where I am at the present.

It's a nice night to sit on the balcony and breathe the air before bed. Happy Sunday.

Late and Great

Hey guys,

I know it's late but this is what happens when you work in hospitality and have messed up sleeping patterns.

Anyhow, I had a quick read over the feedback The Boss sent me and for the first time there was not one, but two sections where she actually wrote 'Good'. One even had a smiley face.

It's nuts to think that this little word can have such an impact but it did, does, and makes me want to write better.

And this was the two-chapter draft. She hasn't shot feedback through for the three chapter version, except to say the concepts are clearer and the writing is improving.

Note to self: go with my gut.

Larissa said to check out Margaret Morse and a couple of other things, but Morse stuck.

Why? Because Morse leads into haptic interfaces, which in my extensive excess writing (stuff that didn't make the cut) is all over the place, citing theatre as a physical medium that is a clear precursor/inter-influence on haptic media.

I'm tired, hungover, hungry and a little drunk, but more excited than anything, because my gut told me to do the haptic thing and I'm going to chase it down.

The other thing my gut told me about was adaptation. By this I mean that theatre is a medium where a script is just the bones and a play can be made in any way at any time, which makes it like new media in that editing can be done on the fly and there is no 'right' way to do anything. I was calling it 'concrete' vs 'fluid' in my head, where concrete media is made solid and not subject to change (photo, painting, film [especially] and TV) and fluid can be made anew as necessary (theatre and new media - not all new media but a large majority).

Theatre, immersive theatre in particlar is like a game engine. There is a skeleton, but each experience is different. Another thread, but a great one to chase down, possibly at a later date.

Anyway, the adaptation thing (making any number of shows from a base script) also lets me link Eckersall (one of my thesis markers) into the mix, which then ties into the rest of the piece.

Where once I was worried about not being able to generate enough content, now I'm concerned that I might end up with too much, but that's what the Boss is for - to tell me when I'm good and tell me when I'm not. I'm starting to think that I might actually finish around 15000, which may be to my benefit all things told.

I want to write something compelling, but it also needs to be entertaining, otherwise it isn't me at all.

The late great thing is not just linked to the time of the post and the feedback, but because all of this got me thinking about 2010, a year when I did a show, wrote my own version of it and saw a different version that same year. It was the Shakespeare classic of Midsummer Night's Dream, and the director was none other than the late, great Peter Oyston. A director, a mentor and a friend, Peter founded the VCA as well as the Circus Oz. It's great to see I'm at RMIT where the Oz archive is a huge thing, but also work with VCA and do my own thing, much of it influenced by Peter. Plus I used to hang out with a 72 year old that was more childish than myself, but with a way nicer house.

To Lateness, To Greatness and Peter.

Thinking Cap

I think I found my thinking cap. I've been wearing this old beanie that doesn't fit properly. My Nanna knitted it and when I wear it, I get good vibes, even if I look like a dodgy prisoner.

Anyway, the hat has given me 2400 words in two days. I'm over count (10.5k) with a section to go.

It's not great stuff, but it isn't terrible, and the fact that it is out of me and on paper is a massive relief.

First hurdle was being able to write 10000 words that make sense together. Reached - and a quarter of it came in two days and a beanie.

Tonight I try for the bibliography, just in case I get stuck at work and don't get the time to finish the last chunk. Also, I have a feeling that even though I've been pretty good when it comes to Zotero, there are going to be a few things to go after or rearrange (like the fact I have some authours with the same names and such, and a couple of book chapters that I've saved the book for rather than the chapter).

But I have to be up early and this bibliography needs looking at. Where's that beanie got to...?

Now

Gotta get it out now before it fades.


I finished the Hypermediate Theatre section (it'll never be finished but it'll do for now), then did Virtual Reality, Remediation and Theatre (too short but good enough) and also killed Gob Squad. Got halfway into Punchdrunk, realised I had 1200 good words in a day (the same as the last five days total) and opened a bottle of wine...

Anyway, aside from wine being far less inhibiting than beer, I realised that I may need to add ABC (AvatarBodyCollision) to the mix.

Reasoning:

The 'Squad hit the nail when it comes to interactivity across new/old interfaces, as well as firing up the presence/co-presence angle.
P Drunky destroy the VR aspect in terms of immersion and the convergent aspect of stuff creating other stuff beyond the event (have a look at Causey or Jenkins as to how this works).

ABC work in almost the reverse aspect, which is why they're so powerful, basically creating totally digital theatre that adheres to both theatrical and new media convention. Sounds like FU(% 4(( to you but is everything to me (sorry - that's the wine talking).

Anyhow, I'm 2300 words into a 3300 word chapter with 2 days in the bag, only my days are terribly full and this chapter is moving towards 5K rather than the other way.

Done... for NOW...

Australia's Got Talent - Really!

Today I had a good work out, which pepped me up to get some writing done.

I'm really happy to be in the final chapter, and as usual the Boss has sent me in a great direction.

This chapter is shaping up to be something pretty cool. It starts off with a couple of quotes - one theatrical, one new media - that essentially say the same thing. After this I land in hypermediate theatre territory, where I explain that theatre on both (historical) sides of the fourth-wall are relatively identical. Following this, I have a quick chat about Brecht (where I'm up to now), explaining his 'Alienation Effect' as not so alienating, which is also a huge feature of new media and present day (Brecht is a little bit dead) experiences of interfaces. This leads straight into the ever-present commonalities of theatre - which align almost perfectly with new media. VICTORY!

Commonalities are the usual (participation, interaction and shared experience) but with a few tiny tweaks the whole thing merges. If I can add a slight addendum (co-presence existing in the virtual as well as the physical - which is possible if I use theatre remediating the digital as is the case with AvatarBodyCollision) then co-presence becomes a non-issue - or more correctly, a shared issue - and convergence emerges as the telling factor, as co-presence can be simulated somewhat through television. This ties straight back into theatre as a hypermedium, where anything goes. Theatre can use anything in the arsenal, steal stuff from everywhere and the only other media type that can make this claim is new media. Blah blah blah.. Theatre 1: Everything else 0.

Seriously, Larissa knows her stuff, and knows how to send me down a useful rabbit-hole. Go Team!

Anyway, the title of this post should probably be addressed. I was watching the aforementioned show and this guy came out and did this awesome bit where the mic-stand was out of reach (which means it became a silent routine) and he got into one of those aluminium tube things that you might see in an industrial air-con unit and manipulated it to eventually reach the mic.

It was probably the most absorbing thing I've seen on TV in a long time (I actually stopped chewing just in case he said something) and it was clear that the judges and the TV audience were in the same state I was in.

Later, a guy came out with a band and did an amazing rendition of Prince's 'Purple Rain' (dude had a killer voice and didn't overdo anything and the band were excellent).

I couldn't help but laugh. I've been so caught up in writing about mediation that I've been really critical about what I watch, and I'm a super harsh theatre/film/tele-critic to begin with. It was so nice to genuinely be taken away, immediately as much as possible given the mediation, and just see something wonderful, regardless of how it was transmitted.

I think it had something to do with multi-remediation going on within the program (it's live physically co-present performance, recorded with a live studio audience, set up in the format of a somewhat vaudeville variety show, complete with theatrical frontality) and that as bogus as the show often is, it has less manufacturing than so many other reality TV programs on at the moment - like Big Brother for instance. There is very little narrative (following stories of contestants); overall it is just stuff happening, and if it's good stuff you want to see more.

Personally, I don't care about the people, just the performances, which I guess rings makes sense. I like to see great theatre, but I have no interest in celebrity. But that's another rope for another day.

Australia really does have some serious talent.