Nothing but the rain

Through a foggy tram window, I see Stena Danica casting off. When I return after dropping William off at chess, there is nothing but the rain left, the kind of present absence that has become something of a signature theme here on Rawls & Me. The other day, Elin remarked on “the images of success and the perfect life you project through your feed”, which feels remote as my nipples are bleeding after I forgot to put on Vaseline before my morning run through the rain, my romantic life lies in ruins, and not even the old Dubliner rain jacket is enough to keep me dry.

Ten kilometres of indoor rowing later, I am back thinking that it really is a choice, and that the stakes are much higher today than they were when I was twenty; that there is a fine line between compulsivity and necessity; that the depths one can fall to are much deeper. So, for the moment, I keep swimming to the best of my ability. For the moment, that means preparing a lecture for the master’s programme in digital learning on Monday and reviewing another manuscript for Energy Research & Social Science.