Johnathan Swift has told me to appreciate silence and calm the fuck down. If there's nothing there, there's nothing there. End.
"So geographers, in Afric maps,
With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o’er unhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns."
Jonathan Swift
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Plans
Good morning/good afternoon/good evening.
I have decided to compartmentalise my life. Over the last day I have had a lot of time to consider how things are going, and, oddly, things seem to be falling, albeit loosely, into place. I seem to be taking things in my stride. In a week's time I will have been doing the same job for a whole year. Processes and situations that once frightened me are happening with fearless regularity. All the holes that were previously around seem to be filling up to create a level field.
I am writing this on a computer I built over the last week. It works. Surprisingly. Although it admittedly has not quite the functionality I wish it to have, the end is in sight. I will be able to record music from it. I will be able to browse the internet in swift, warm and leatherbound comfort.
All things considered, I have 'settled in' to my new house, I have compartmentalised all the excitement of last year into a box (labeled 'excitement of last year') and thus it no longer fills me with excitement, worry, pain, optimism, etc. etc.
I suppose what I am saying is that things look as if they could be becoming more comfortable. I am not sure I like this at all. I do not wich to settle into intellectual (or otherwise) poverty, where everything I do is governed by the rules which dictated everything I have already done.
I am looking for hurdles.
As such I will be making an effort to collect all the ideas and thoughts and links and images and leads I have in the near future, in the hope that it might carry me somewhere downstream, where there is more fog, dangerous water, and possibly prettier villages along the banks. This is my collection point.
The other thing about compartmentalising my life, other than just coalescing detritus, I suppose, is a vague attempt at splitting my time into useful units - now that I have fewer commitments than I have had in the past, and a more useable computer, etc. I have no real excuse for not getting things done. That novel I was going to write; that album I was going to make; that astonishing series of artworks I was going to produce; that valuable and influencial post at the Tudor House Conservative Club, Chipping Sodbury... Thus I will attempt to organise my time better. Spend an hour reading each night, and an hour writing, and an hour scening my arse off on the internet, etc. etc...
Of course it'll probably only last a couple of nights, before I get distracted and spend the evening in a pub ale-ing 'til my face droops off.
Oh well.
B.x
I have decided to compartmentalise my life. Over the last day I have had a lot of time to consider how things are going, and, oddly, things seem to be falling, albeit loosely, into place. I seem to be taking things in my stride. In a week's time I will have been doing the same job for a whole year. Processes and situations that once frightened me are happening with fearless regularity. All the holes that were previously around seem to be filling up to create a level field.
I am writing this on a computer I built over the last week. It works. Surprisingly. Although it admittedly has not quite the functionality I wish it to have, the end is in sight. I will be able to record music from it. I will be able to browse the internet in swift, warm and leatherbound comfort.
All things considered, I have 'settled in' to my new house, I have compartmentalised all the excitement of last year into a box (labeled 'excitement of last year') and thus it no longer fills me with excitement, worry, pain, optimism, etc. etc.
I suppose what I am saying is that things look as if they could be becoming more comfortable. I am not sure I like this at all. I do not wich to settle into intellectual (or otherwise) poverty, where everything I do is governed by the rules which dictated everything I have already done.
I am looking for hurdles.
As such I will be making an effort to collect all the ideas and thoughts and links and images and leads I have in the near future, in the hope that it might carry me somewhere downstream, where there is more fog, dangerous water, and possibly prettier villages along the banks. This is my collection point.
The other thing about compartmentalising my life, other than just coalescing detritus, I suppose, is a vague attempt at splitting my time into useful units - now that I have fewer commitments than I have had in the past, and a more useable computer, etc. I have no real excuse for not getting things done. That novel I was going to write; that album I was going to make; that astonishing series of artworks I was going to produce; that valuable and influencial post at the Tudor House Conservative Club, Chipping Sodbury... Thus I will attempt to organise my time better. Spend an hour reading each night, and an hour writing, and an hour scening my arse off on the internet, etc. etc...
Of course it'll probably only last a couple of nights, before I get distracted and spend the evening in a pub ale-ing 'til my face droops off.
Oh well.
B.x
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