Sounds, almost.

“Hi! You’re preparing for an artistic odyssey..?! How exciting. I’d love to hear more about it if you’re in the mood sharing life plans with a complete stranger?”

“Always, nothing like boring a stranger. Though i wish i hadn’t have put that bit, too much expectation. Less an odyssey, more an excursion, with sandwiches and a flask of tea; me, Beckett, Lee Bowery, Paul Mccarthy and a packet of hob nobs. Perhaps we’re on a coach to tate st. Ives.”

“So what kind of work do you make? And what were you looking at researching for the PhD? Not boring at all – quite the opposite in fact. Excellent choice of company to travel with, by the way.”

“Really? I’m not that keen on Hob Nobs (not letting Beckett choose next time). The work question is a tricky one. I have built the question up too much… Over the past twenty years perhaps, although a little unfair to count anything up to graduation. There are a few threads of interest that needs twining a little so that they can make a little sense of each other and then, perhaps, some content. Communication is perhaps a biggy, more specifically how we are defined by our articulations. And more specifically still these articulations as performed by supposed fictional or analogous behaviours, which is the art angle. And this is sort of where it splits out again, like a tassel at the end of the cord (how poetic). At this end of the rope (I’ll stick with it) I’m interested in the fiction of gender, sexual performance, dialogue, techno-behaviours (I love an academic contraction), functional/disfunctional languages yada yada yada (slang). Since moving to London a couple of years ago things have kicked off again in the old noggin but I have had little time to develop them due to working and enjoying Londanity.”

Nothing, the line goes dead. I regret the jovial bits, shameful. And their brackets.