Perhaps it was David Blood who said that his father used to pose a question as a matter of course to the people he came across each day. "What has occurred to you lately?" It might be a perfect habit to adopt to assess the changing mood of the crowd. The perfect way to ask it. Accumulating those things that come to mind to provide a collective definition of the times.

Perfect like the Manhattan at Water Bar. "Would you like your Manhattan sweet, dry or perfect?" Do you mean somewhere in between? Somewhere in between so rarely perfect.

By Friday afternoon my head seems full of new people I've gotten to know and like, but each time I go to tell someone, I realise that they don't currently exist outside the small rehearsal room.

David Blood seems star struck, annoyingly. Even him. Ray says if he could meet anyone in the world it would be Annie Leibovitz. I realise I only want to admire idols from afar. Meanwhile Jo plots her path to Obama.

A boy sits in a bean bag reading books with no covers, nameless books, and that's the point. Characters in a story with no name, no origin, no writer. Just existing in his head, until he articulates it and the surprise of collective experience frustrates him.

Lindsay Tanner says: "In Australia we need to learn to walk and chew gum at the same time" and in a milk crate in the cave-like (but not cavernous) living room of a house in Annandale there is a record at the front of the stack that says The No Neck Blues Band.

On Thursday I put mascara on my right eye first. This is not normal.