It’s 7.30am on the train to Sydney. To home. I’m still not used to thinking of Sydney as home. Particularly when I’m on riding this line that for many years has been a visit to the city.
Contemplating the week ahead. And the weekend just gone. Some good times and some bad.
Thinking of C again. I was just listening to Aimee Mann. I wish I could get beyond that. But he introduced me to her, and also, she sounds like us. Songs about good things turned sour. Pain, discomfort, loss. I feel that we’re not yet over. I feel that there may be another chapter. But this scares me and I don’t want it. Except I do. But I know it will end as another Aimee Mann narrative. And I’ll forever be singing our song in mournful tones.
Now I listen to Bananarama’s True Confessions. My music. Still wistful songs, but these belong to me, my past, my current train ride on the early morning Central Coast.
I finally got confirmation of my PhD upgrade. I forgot to tell anybody. But most people think I’m doing a PhD anyway. Myself included. It’s just nice to have that in writing though.
Another two years on my project is both comforting and frightening. I need this time to get where I want to go. But already there are so many temptations to stray. There are more zines I can make, more stories to tell, more places to travel, more fun to be had. I find it hard to focus on one thing. I always want more.
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