People keep asking how my PhD is going. It’s a legitimate and infuriating inquiry. How to explain the research da(y)ze? Here’s one in 100 words.
It was never going to be easy: this spinning hyper-real simulacra imaginarium. Breathe in. Passionate tears during compost therapy. Breathe out. A research assistant job comes through. Vegetarian dumplings. Whispers of theoretical (in)security. Omissions, occlusions, occasions. Frangipani’s first buds. A maelstrom of attunement as I grip my red pen. Personifying landscapes, fast-forwarding childhoods, (re)working images, terraforming heartbreaks. Screaming all the while. Riding wild horses. An unoriginal miscellany. Embolden by Kathleen Stewart and my broadcasting sister’s birthday, I take solace in Manu’s grey bicycle T-shirt. Cheers all round. When all else fails, winter dog walks and melted cheese toasties.