Lazy, lazy, lazy, that's me.
The more astute amongst you will have noted that there's a tad more coastalblog activity than has usually been the case over the last few years of late. Well, there is a reason for that,which has been alluded to a few times over the last few postings. In brief; in an attempt to recover something of a sense of my old self (i.e. the pre-business, pre-kids self)I set myself the task of writing something, anything, daily. It's kind of like a mid-life crisis only I've not bought a motorbike and I'm not cheating on my wife. In a more constructive vein it's am extension of an idea that I used to drum into my students in my lecturing days, the concept of being "writing fit", like fighting fit, only with more whinging. You write enough and eventually some of it's half decent.
And, do you know, it's been working. The last book only contained a couple of poems from the last few years, but a reasonable amount of stuff has accumulated under the new regime, and some of it I'm quite happy with. But today the creativity isn't flowing, I'm just not in the mood, but write something I must.So a blog post it is.
Now, dear reader, don't feel bad, you're not second best to some abstract notion of creativity, I get as warm a glow out of putting something worthwhile up here as I do out of any other form of writing. But this isn't anything worthwhile, this is solipsistic waffle. Still, it's served a purpose. I just hope you don't feel used, I will still respect you in the morning, I promise. I had a vague notion of doing something about IDS's claim to be able to live on 53 quid a week, I toyed with the idea of writing about how important the Indian supreme court's ruling denying a patent to an an anti-cancer drug is incredibly important and heartening. Failing that I was going to rant about how the revival of Ant n' Dec is incontrovertible proof that we've become hideously infantilised as a society. But I can't work up the necessary. I have, however, managed a post, of sorts, at least, go me.
The more astute amongst you will have noted that there's a tad more coastalblog activity than has usually been the case over the last few years of late. Well, there is a reason for that,which has been alluded to a few times over the last few postings. In brief; in an attempt to recover something of a sense of my old self (i.e. the pre-business, pre-kids self)I set myself the task of writing something, anything, daily. It's kind of like a mid-life crisis only I've not bought a motorbike and I'm not cheating on my wife. In a more constructive vein it's am extension of an idea that I used to drum into my students in my lecturing days, the concept of being "writing fit", like fighting fit, only with more whinging. You write enough and eventually some of it's half decent.
And, do you know, it's been working. The last book only contained a couple of poems from the last few years, but a reasonable amount of stuff has accumulated under the new regime, and some of it I'm quite happy with. But today the creativity isn't flowing, I'm just not in the mood, but write something I must.So a blog post it is.
Now, dear reader, don't feel bad, you're not second best to some abstract notion of creativity, I get as warm a glow out of putting something worthwhile up here as I do out of any other form of writing. But this isn't anything worthwhile, this is solipsistic waffle. Still, it's served a purpose. I just hope you don't feel used, I will still respect you in the morning, I promise. I had a vague notion of doing something about IDS's claim to be able to live on 53 quid a week, I toyed with the idea of writing about how important the Indian supreme court's ruling denying a patent to an an anti-cancer drug is incredibly important and heartening. Failing that I was going to rant about how the revival of Ant n' Dec is incontrovertible proof that we've become hideously infantilised as a society. But I can't work up the necessary. I have, however, managed a post, of sorts, at least, go me.