Sometimes I feel as though I can’t remember as to what happened the other day.
The other day is so far behind me that I’m not considering it. Of course though, it only takes a few moments to remember as to what happened. It was a routine and as routine stretches over the days, weeks and months, everything blurs together to form some sort of indistinct path being left behind in my wake.
That’s how it might feel to some but not others during this time of patience and waiting. For me, it’s just business as usual.
When I said that I feel as though I can’t remember, to be honest, I’m not sure as to what I mean. I guess it really is about the routine blending together and to be honest there’s a lot that I remember, but often some small details fall by the wayside. That’s probably the way it’s meant to be, I guess.
It probably also has a lot to do with where my focus is at any given time. If I’m focusing on one thing, then that will likely be what I remember.
The good thing about writing about music and interviewing people and writing about other things and processing photos and all the other stuff I do is that often it’s pretty variable, though sometimes it really does blend with each other. It keeps me thinking and thinking is a good thing, I think. To be fair, my brain doesn’t shut off most of the time and so I’m thinking a lot, but when I’m doing the things that make me think about them, I’m focusing on them and getting them done. I’m thinking about the processes and intricacies and the way that things are strung together.
Well, sometimes that is the case with music. Often when it comes to playing it (and sometimes making it) it’s more of a sense of firmly being within the moment. There’s a strong sense of being fully and utterly free and alive and one with the music as it moves into me and lets me become lost in its being and entirety. I am carried off to other places ans zones and the being still and forever moving is a gripping sensation, but that is something for another time and another day to discuss. I’m sure that I’ve written about this before, but right now I’m not going to as there are other things in which I want to write about, but of course I won’t get to them as this is nearing the end of the limit of which I’ve set myself.
Well, at east with all this being at home I’ve more time to write and walk and experience the suburb of which I am encased. That’s always a pleasant feeling, I think.
Maybe I’ll start feeling uncomfortable soon, but right now I’m doing alright. I’m enjoying this being at home. I’ve more time to do the things that I really want to do.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:34:05
There was a moment when writing this where I kind of switched off. Probably the strongest bit of the writing of today.
Written at home.