from Mike

This morning I was a model for a life drawing class in Ponsonby.

At the end of the class, a very old man named Mike came up to me and said I could choose any of his sketches that I liked to keep. He talked very slow and walked even slower. I had seen his sketches during the half time break: vibrant pastels on black paper. I wondered who they belonged to and thought maybe a young girl about my age on his right.

I held this pose for half an hour. Of the four positions I held for half an hour, this one was (deceptively) the most difficult. I was standing under a heater and my neck and right shoulder were cramping already at around half way and I felt extra dizzy and like I wasn't hearing properly. The dizzy-deaf feeling reminded me exactly of Bikram (at the end of each pose when the instructor is saying, "PUSHHH! PUSSSHHH!" as if you're having a baby (apparently the instructors are much nicer overseas)), and also because little droplets of sweat were running down across my ribs, shoulders, forehead and knees. 

One lady named Jane, who was very particular and seemed like a Ponsonby local (massive stereotyping on my behalf) asked me if I was ok because I looked "quite pale". I had to keep relaxing my face - my forehead and jaw - which kept slipping back into a frown of concentration, stubbornness, exertion.

I'm really, really happy Mike offered me his picture. I really wanted one -- any picture from any of the artists -- but just a little piece of my self, from those three hours, to be gifted back to myself.

On a plus note, I'll be able to pay my rent this week.

Woohoo.