yyt

re-entry has been harder than usual and it is usually hard. i thought that it was going to relatively easy as i really didn’t get a chance to feel that i was living on the rock - even in the familiar settings of martin and gabrielle’s in pouch cove and the relatively quotidian ritual of walking elke’s dog.
it was - i feel - the missed rituals. coffee at hava java, montréal bagels from georgetown - didn’t make it to christina parker’s, early evening when i would see the regulars while reading the globe at the duke
it was also due - i think - of having people from the lower 48. i thought that it would be trouble free as i wasn’t depressed when the ferry docked in north sydney. i still had the urge to explore - impossible as there we did have to make some time.
i even liked maine. the shock this time was societal - which is strange as i don’t think that i have been with a group of yanks more afraid of the world outside in some time. doors were constantly being locked, windows drawn. it was when openness and curiosity was supplanted by defensiveness and suspicion. the coke machine at a layby in connecticut that took my dollar but the people working there wouldn’t take responsibility showing a sign on a machine no place close to the one that i used saying that i had to contact some company which they then refused to give the number. it was further on outside hartford where taking a snap of a bar patio that the owner comes running out screaming “who are you with?” the shock was go great that i missed ding dong ditch possibilities in new haven and in nyc and when i gained my senses also didn’t bother in north linthicum.
it was made worse heading to the wgas - i have to change this as it lost this dubious status - to find that there no one who shared my interests. i found that i was more excited talking to a security guard who has been dedicated to street photography for 30 odd years who has a real book coming our on south side baseball than anyone in the department, i know that i would have more fun with the coombs of portugal cove south than those here who broaden their experiences third hand. the chair and her mascot, named after the second part of the province, in a purge that would make stalin blanche, not only fired someone invested in the school but also wiped out everything that made the department function - a year erased. it seems that art here no longer will be about experimentation and options as they have streamlined the digital process by loading the printers with generic papers where students will swipe their i.d be charged to make prints. which is fine in a department where the new “direction” is to talk about photography as a cultural phenomenon rather than a device for exploration. week three and the labs are empty. being back used to be softened by those few people with whom who debate would happen. with the new direction i count the weeks until i can escape.