Is someone coming to get me?

Friday, May 30, 2003
 
Andy Harris and Doug Hansen have just slithered off the ridge into Tibet. It was a most affecting moment as we both watched the wool that links the figure to the bio board plume to the ground. They snaked downwards in a slow tangle. Rob Hall moved down the mountain to the South Summit, where he now sits having disposed his place as best he can.

Sandeee has lent us a CD to see us through the night. It is great and perfect for our slightly somber mood, tempered by incapacity.

 
3:53am. The piece is winding down because we are. I feel really good about it, in the end. I think the piece really engaged people in a variety of ways. And it remained entertaining, so it seems and to my surprise (again). Too tired...i've raced beyond or far behind words.

 
Small dance party here now, for the final hours. Three hours to go, in the strictest sense of loyalty to our own goals. Although loyalty is a serious abstraction on so little sleep. There are climbers stuck high on the mountain, and climbers lost in the whiteout of the storm on the south col. Like the Hastings performance, this stage of the story is particularly non-amenable to our visualisation methods. The storm. The climbers not moving very much. The middle of the night. Our tactics for staying awake. It all lends a sense of calm to a very serious, violent, even dire situation. The situation seems to want theatre techniques for visualisation/dramatisation, but that would attenuate the forensic qualities of the piece. There's a definition of fatigue: indiscriminate use of words like "attenuate".

 
Chris and Ben are real troopers they have now been up for 40 hours and their attention to detail is still pedantic. We are currently watching the procession leaving the abbey and the climbers make it back down to Hillary step to die. The sculpture is magnicent, as is the blokes effort.