The parental farewell party in Canberra went well. But I felt very numb all weekend; couldn’t really get my head around what was happening. It didn’t seem real.
It doesn’t seem right for such a significant change to occur whilst I’ve still got one foot in the void. My family home where I spent so many years of my life has just ceased to exist, and it’s like I missed the whole thing. It’s sad.
I found my microphone.
And I got some new jeans.
As predicted the highlight of the trip was seeing my youngest sister, who’s very special. We have a complex history. She’s been an incredible bitch to me on a fair number of occasions without ever saying sorry. I think I’ve damaged her quite badly in some ways, although I didn’t mean to. She’s never entirely gotten over certain things, even after four years.
But for all our history, I still love her so much and probably always will. I fantasize sometimes that one day we will be the best of friends again, and make art together happily ever after. Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know.
She seems to be doing alright. Although she has developed a serious text messaging addiction.
After the party on Saturday night, we played traditional stoned cards in my old room. It wasn’t like the old days at all, but it was nice.
I painted these walls red after I got home from Wales at the beginning of 2000.
That is all.