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i keep forgetting birthdays. not my own, although i’ve started referring to myself as being 28, which is odd because there’s another two months until i am that officially, and i had real trouble remembering that i’m 27 all year. could be a senior moment, or could just be that i prefer even numbers.

i keep forgetting friends’ birthdays on a more and more frequent basis and it annoys me because if your friends don’t remember your birthday then what’s the point? you may as well stop ageing at 25 and just say you’re having a really long year.

so if i have forgotten your birthday recently, which is most likely as i haven’t remembered anyone’s, then i am deeply apologetic.

i wanted to drive today. i got in my car to drive home and i just wanted to keep going, turn left down the princes highway and see where i ended up. instead i behaved myself, turned right into king street and went home.

i have a jeffrey smart print on my wall, called the dome. it was painted in 1977 and shows a typically smart-esque stormy sky, the dome of a building, a green tree, a golden field and, in the foreground, a red and white striped post. describing it as a collection of objects makes it sound ridiculous, but there is something in the quality of the image that strikes me. makes me think of silence and sadness and solitude and peace. it’s like a window into another world, above my desk, and some days i think i would like to be sitting in that golden field.