Had a dream that I was detained in a holding room by Instagram with Beyonce. Solange was all over the news because of a drug overdose or something and none of the guards (Instagram guards!) would tell Beyonce what was happening. Time to change my internet habits.
There is a certain face people make at you when they’ve asked you what your dream job is, would be, if there were no obstacles, if you could be anything at all, and you don’t give them anything. It’s not a good face. They want to help you help yourself and you’re not letting them do it even though they’ve generously removed reality for you. But now that I’ve finally figured out my dream job do you think the face will be better or worse when I tell them it’s solving non existent mysteries of little importance?
“The first time I saw Susie was at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. And when she came walking in, all the things that I have obsessed over for all the years, pictures of movie stars, Jenny Agutter in the billabong, Anita Ekberg in the fountain … Miss World competitions, Marilyn Monroe and Jennifer Jones and Bo Derek … Bolshoi ballerinas and Russian gymnasts … the young girls at the Wangaratta pool lying on the hot concrete, all the stuff I had heard and seen and read … all the continuing never-ending drip-feed of erotic data … came together at that moment, in one great big crash bang, and I was lost to her. And that was that.”