I bought “Lovage – Music to Make Love to Your Old Lady By”. It’s a kind of cynical love album, like it Barry White had been dicked over by a few too many devil women. It’s also very fine. Oh so very fine, etc.

Having previously moved in with his girlfriend, my old flatmate has now moved into his own bachelor pad. His entire flat costs $10 a week less than mine, but it’s about the same size as my lounge. Because of its tininess, I went over and helped him sort through his crap.

If you move around a bit, like he has, and like I have, you end up with boxes filled with inessential stuff that never gets unpacked. From flat to flat the boxes are schlepped around and never opened, never unpacked. Before I went to Melbourne I went on a ruthless culling spree through all my stuff. I threw out so much stuff that I just had no use for. Now I don’t have any unopened boxes. Everything is unpacked.

So I helped Teh Matt sort through print outs of web pages, university notes, old computer disks and manuals, bad poetry, scraps of paper with phone numbers and a flowery yet touching break-up note from an old girlfriend, written in the way that only 17 year old girls write. It’s nice when everything figures out a place to go.