I wouldn’t say happy, cos for me the ideal state is contentment, happiness is lovely but it’s transient, so I don’t really give it much mind, but I’m chilled, which is the next-best thing to content.
And it’s a trap.
I get nothing done when I’m too relaxed, everthing slows down, everything becomes soft at the edges, and right now, with no deadlines, nothing crying out to get done, that’s how I feel. I don’t get writer’s block, that’s just a lame excuse, but I do get sidetracked.
So I’m going to set some deadlines. Some targets. It’s not about flow, it’s not about inspiration, its about putting words on paper.
Drove up to Amble with Lishman on Thursday. Really good day, though we cut it a bit short.
We chatted about material things, ambition and the like. Neither of us are materialistic. It’s not about getting stuff. It’s not about income or overt status symbols. I’ve said this before, but as nice as a Porsche 911 is, it’d be no use to me as there’s no boot for my dog to travel in. And my dog is more important than any car.
It’s not about getting things, it’s about sitting in the sunshine of Amble Harbour, drinking coffee with a pal and not having to do anything else.
Having said that, there are a couple of things I do like owning: this computer I’m writing on, and my soprano saxophone, but beyond that, I’m just not into acquisition for it’s own sake. Ideally, I can carry everything I need in a single rucksack. For the rest of it, all I need is time, friends, somewhere to drink coffee and read a book.
Amble Harbour. Absolutely nothing going on, and that’s just fine.