Mick rang to tell me I wasn’t needed today, so I’m lying in bed imagining I have a second job.

Like, a weekend job, to increase my friendship group.

Maybe if I upload a status to Facebook saying this, something will happen.

I log onto Facebook and post: ‘I’m gonna try and get a second job! Cause I’m a crazy cunt! I want to work at Palace Cinemas! If you are reading this and working at Palace Cinemas I will work there with you. We will pour butter onto popcorn together in a way that people will say, “Damn, they heaps went to university!”’

If Lisa worked at Palace Cinemas, I would hold the popcorn bag while she poured the butter.

And she would hold the popcorn bag while I poured the butter.

And we would spend our shifts doing this together while giggling.

I wait five minutes and check Facebook.

Nothing.

I make a green tea.

Eat a carrot.

My iPhone vibrates because someone has liked my status, and it validates me.

I sip my green tea.

I finish my green tea.

I think: success.

I walk to the shower and get in.

Begin to sing OMC’s ‘How Bizarre’ loudly.

I turn on the water and sing, ‘Cruising down the freeway in the hot, hot sun.’

And even though I’m a horrible singer, I pretend I’m extremely good.

Our bathroom window is open and I wonder what my neighbour is doing and I imagine he is in his backyard staring at the fence.

I think: neighbour, you are the reason that I sing.

I’m not sure of the other lyrics, so I just keep singing, ‘Cruising down the freeway in the hot, hot sun.’

Except that on the fourth time, I really go for it.

I take a breath in and let it out.

I sing, ‘Cruuuuuuuuuuiiiuiuiuiuiuiuiuiuiuiuissssssssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggggggggg dddddddooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.’

Going really high at the end because the hot water stops being hot.

Actually goes freezing.

Which turns out to be refreshing.

I decide that every morning will begin in this way.

That I will blast myself with cold water and feel refreshed.

I get out of the shower and walk back to my room.

I sit on my bed and check Facebook.

Lisa has liked my status.

I think: message her.

Just type, ‘Hey, maybe we could get an ice-cream or something?’

Or, ‘Hey, maybe we should go to the aquarium?’

Or, ‘Hey, come to the aquarium with me; I want to kiss you next to a seal.’

Except maybe the aquarium isn’t the best place to take her.

In Argentina I went to this zoo with this Brazilian girl named Luiza.

Lots of people were taking photos of the animals, which were behind chicken wire and, sometimes, chain-link fences.

The animals looked tired and malnourished and everything was generally run-down.

The zookeepers kept prodding and yelling at the animals when tourists wanted photos.

We left the zoo and walked back to the city.

Drank beer sitting on this bridge throwing small pebbles into a river while people walked around us.

Everyone listened to this guitar player nearby who was really good at finger plucking, and it was hot and everyone was sweating and there was something in the atmosphere that seemed sexual, and then there was me, just sitting on a bridge with someone, throwing pebbles into a river.

I open Facebook message and type to Lisa: ‘Do you want to meet up sometime?’

And I press send, wondering whether in the future I’ll look back on this moment remembering the small amount of light coming in through my window.

Hoping that I’ll be lying somewhere with Lisa — just lying together in a small amount of light coming in through a window somewhere.