Ah, no time, no time. The stuff is at such a premium in Australia that you need to throw coins into streetside slots every few minutes, just to pay for the time you're taking up. Every moment counts down, counts downward to zero, and I'm climbing ever downward on time's ladder here, peering down past my shoulder every day or two to see the bottom. Nothing but blackness so far.

Really, I only feel this way because I'm on the road, and when you're on the road your life is chopped into innumerable deadlines. You have four hours to get this interview on tape. You have six hours to sleep. 30 minutes for breakfast. 20 minutes travel time. 45 minutes setup, 180 min talk, 30 until the next. You have 20 minutes internet time left. You have 20 cents to throw in the phone and 40 is the mininum. You have 3 pairs of underwear left and 7 days of shooting. You have 10 minutes to reach the airport. 40 minutes to connect. 5 for customs. You have 50 years of life and you're talking to a reptile in U.S. customs clothing. You have 3 days with your wife. You have all that ahead of you and still you're watching that long line of ladder dipping into black. You have a bowl of pad thai in a million different thai restaurants. You have a bright look and a curious attitude for hundreds of strangers. You have a pocket watch and it counts the hours. You have a need to go home and celebrate your 3 year anniversary with your wife in 4 days. Now that's worthwhile.

parode - exode