It's 10 PM on a southern rail train. I've just received an email from a theorist saying his seven-month course in Lisbon will cost £5000. A cyber security course I also recently researched cost £3500. My open return train ticket cost £20.05. Are the courses going to take me somewhere? I know the train will. "Not one for heels really" - a passenger in front via video to her lover, through a mouthful of crisps. I need to wash my bag and socks. And change the battery in my laptop. And apply for an exhibition. "That's me". It's raining heavily outside and today was the first day I'd felt cold whilst walking to get a takeaway. The English summer has raced away. Still three weeks left. Officially. "You've got one". The lower back throbs a little. I need a bath. I watched Anthony Bourdains Roadrunner last night never paid any attention to him before. All seems a bit old hat to me. Still. It was enjoyable. Today's celebrities seem humble in comparison. Cheaper. Theres less luxury despite there being more(?). Maybe it seems like his stardom offered him more value. I'm glad to sleep at home tonight as a series of Mori's Bed, studio floor, Toms bed, Chloes Sofa, Nicks Coach, Judes bed, Pikes bed has been a good run but confusing. I suppose you need some regularity, some structure.
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