A day of an art student.
Words by T. Delaunay & illustration by Ceci Lombardi
Alarm rings, 9 am. You couldn’t sleep before 3.
You are tired and don’t have to go to uni.
You fall asleep again and stay in bed until 11.
You go downstairs. Everyone has left already. You forgot to buy coffee, don’t feel like eating and it is cold. 12.30. You realize that you haven’t eaten and it might be the reason why you are starting to shake.
You cook spaghetti, then shower. By the time you finished showering, the spaghetti is overcooked. This is not acceptable (you’re Italian).
You eat your overcooked spaghetti as you can’t be bothered to cook some more,
you aren’t really hungry anymore. 3pm,
you check the time.
What happened? You don’t know. The last thing you remember was checking your emails. Then your laptop. Blank.
You call your friend A and ask to meet up at school to talk about a proposal – a performance in the woods.
On your way to uni you realise that you truly are an art student – the university is a place to socialise. You go there because you can’t work at home and there are more boys around.
You’re at uni. You see your friend A who is about to put a fake mushroom on his head for an MA project.
You think that the project is shit.
You think that you will have to wait for 20 minutes.
You sit in front of the canteen and start to read Saint Augustin’s Soliloquy. You wonder why you bought that book and start to be moody (no, you weren’t really moody until now).
A starts to hang around you with the mushroom on his head, trying to be funny.
He is not being funny.
You lift your eyes from your book and here HE is.
HE is wearing a white jumper and a sheepskin.
You are sad for the sheep and ashamed for yourself.
Meanwhile, the mushroom is still being funny.
You move to the bar and get a coffee, now that you recovered your friend. He is still all excited about the experiment. You start talking about the proposal but without really focusing. HE is working at the bar just behind you. Did HE see you?
HE isn’t wearing the sheepskin anymore. (That makes him even more attractive).
You haven’t come up with a concept yet but your friend needs to go. You go to the library for a bit, then go home
You keep on thinking of him and of how pathetic it is he hasn’t talked to you.
“But he was working behind the bar” your flatmate says.
She also said that he was gay by looking at his profile pictures, and we now know that he isn’t, and now you can’t get it out of your mind.
You have dinner
Watch a film.
Before that you did some unsuccessful research for your lit review and acknowledge the loss of your credit card.
You are tired and can’t manage to sleep.
It is 2.30 am.
It might be that I spent so much time on my own
That I can’t even bear my own presence
But one thing I know is I can’t like that much a guy
Whose name I remember each time I hoover
Letter to Henry