Montmorency

I live in Montmorency. The gumtrees in the backyard are massive, leaning out across the kitchen window. I walk to the train in the misty, overcast morning and find a window seat and read voraciously. I am absorbed in stories and words. I open my laptop on the train and pour ideas into it. I walk home via the Monty shops and buy organic potatoes and chilli continental sausages because we don’t live with vegetarians anymore. We have central heating and winter feels cozy and homey and unlike any sharehouse Melbourne winter I’ve ever had. I walk Ooms, the dog that comes with the house, late at night in the empty misty streets. We email the folk we are house-sitting for and tell them we love their house and sometimes we look for rental properties online but only because we feel like we should.

When Jono is away, for days at a time for work, Luke and Christy drive Nona out here and we spread out across the centrally heated house and plan and organise and take it in turns to pat Ooms. Put ideas on butchers paper in the study, watch superhero movies in the loungeroom, sit at the kitchen table and eat and talk and talk and eat. Sweet treats and tea. Marx for Beginners in the toilet and we take it in turns to read snippits.

Kate Kantor

We organise to do two workshops with Kate before we find out about Arts Vic, to start. To start working together. For us to get t know her and her to know us. For us to have someone there the first time we start to play impro together.

She shows up at the Dancehouse in her pigtails and red coat and is immediately friendly and funny. We do up-balloons to warm up and laugh. She is gentle with our clowns as we find fun costumes to wear. Christy’s face softens behind her nose and her eyes go sweet and quiet. Luke turns into a little boy dominated by the idea of a motorbike. He wears my leather jacket which fits him beautifully. Kate leads us through Feldenkreis on the floor. She asks our clowns to do advertisements selling darkness, the sky, clouds. Make up jingles, dance, keep going through the awkward and the flop because you’ll find something. Be curios, childlike and get commercial. You want the audience to love you. Check if they love you. Check if they think you’re doing it right. Make it up. You’re always the expert and you don’t know anything.

We lie on the floor and write our childhood superhero stories in quick stream-of-concious scribbles. We impro with them in our minds and fall in love with the language. With the storytelling.

We love Kate and we think we could do an 8 hour session with her and not feel tired. We say, ‘as soon as we find out about Arts Vic we’ll talk to you.’ Wave goodbye on the Dancehouse front step.

Circus Oz Opening

Went alone to the oz show opening. Ended up next to two people I know. The whole of the Melbourne circus industry, half the state MPs and a cohort of City of Melbourne employees waving at each other across the big top. Paul O’Keefe the hilarious Roller God in tiny blue satin shorts, Ania cycling round and round on a little bicycle with old- school lanterns at each end and a toy piano instead of handlebars. Her hair piled and in messy curls, fitted white coat and a little smile on her face. Sarah, charismatic, tough, political, feels to me like she is bringing back the roots of oz and at the same time holding the show. She is stunning.

Afterwards I drink opening night wine with Ania out of a plastic glass and she is bright and keen. We talk about Kapow! and she wants to make music. “Oz is at night and I have so much time during the day I don’t know what to do.” I say when we find out about Arts Vic we’ll make a plan.

Called Arts Vic and asked what their timeframe is for letting people know. They said their time frame is ’very late.’ So we are still waiting.