There was no art to this week. Blurry lights, childhood suburbs revisited, snatches of sleep, flashing lights, coloured cables, racks and cages and liberal use of conf t. Did I make it out alive? awake? I’m not sure just yet, but if you don’t throw yourself at your work, what’s the point? »
I used to take a photo of myself each time my birthday came around. Reminding myself I was still here. Reminding myself how I’d changed. Reminding myself of what I was trying to be, this time around. The habit trailed off like so many others, but seeing one of the photos again gives me The Fear. »
It’s going to start with breakfast at Mario’s. After that, it’s up to my Doc Martens to take me where they will – camera in hand, and nowhere in particular to go. »
I didn’t want to believe the words I said – that things would be the same anyway, no matter where I went. What was I doing defending the status quo? It doesn’t need it. I’m supposed to be hoping for more, no wait, going for more. Instead, I was trying to explain away my inaction. I get what I deserve. »
I wanted to write, but technology had other plans for me. Plans of the kind that remind you just who’s wearing the pants in the relationship. It serves me right for thinking otherwise, I suppose. »