The saga that followed was not about unconditional love, but about seeking to inhabit an intersubjective world that is about meeting the other in all the fleshy detail of a mortal relationship.




Spring kills me every year.

I would rather sit on a train for 12 hours than be on a plane for 1. The landscape looks greener than I've ever seen it. There's that gentle sun and animals are lying down everywhere; horses, cows. I wondered if they were dead. The past couple of weeks I keep thinking back to that time just before adolescence, around year 3 or 4 even, when things were gentle, just before hormones kicked in. Spring and childhood will probably always have inseparable associations for me. I wonder what climate change will do to spring, and how it will upend the cycles of memory & renewal & every other little thing that matters.

I'm going to a funeral today and staying with my mum for a couple of days. I just let a fly in the house, it's clean in here. Letting a fly in is like letting chaos in.


My life is a movie, I'm never off set

-Nicki Minaj
My life is a movie and everyone's watching
So let's get to the good part

-Justin Bieber


Ends & Odds

"Escape, he said, is impossible: ruin is our only hope–a complete abandonment to the currents of existence"

Fell asleep with books & chargers & clothes & other objects on my bed and then was awoken intermittently during the night as objects fell off.

Saw a family of three, Dad wearing New Balance, Mum wearing Nike and Child wearing Asics. This isn't a critique, I was struck at how quickly I could isolate these signifiers / autonomous identifiers.

On the tram I hear someones phone ring; the ringtone is the song from Close Encounters of a Third Kind, the song that the aliens used to communicate to humans. I thought this made some kind of sense.

Started to panic the other day because I've cut off most of my hair and there is no way to change my appearance anymore (the only way is to slowly let it grow back).

I found all these Camellia buds on freshly cut branches in a bin and so took them home and put them in water in preparation for their future blooming. Instead of flowering, each and every bud rotted on the branch. I held out hope until the very last one fell off.

Waiting to bloom or rot.