The Dark Stuff

I finally went to the store and bought myself some glasses. Do you know how difficult it is to choose a pair of glasses? Half an hour later thinking I had made the right choice, I took them to the counter to do the paperwork thing for the lenses only to be told I had chosen a pair that meant I could get another pair free.

After half an hour in there already, I didn't much have the stomach for that, so I just ordered two pairs exactly the same. They will be ready for collection at the beginning of next week. Will they help me play better guitar? Doubtful. Will they spark a chain reaction in my brain that fires up great stories that will bring accolades to my door? Also doubtful, but they may sharpen the edges on things I come across in the world... like exactly how close the car in front is. 

Last night, I discovered a horrible truth about myself. I have been keeping myself locked in an open prison made entirely of paper. 

I dug out all of the notebooks I had ever begun projects in and laid them out on the table - there were a lot and it looked impressive. All of them contained either vague story ideas, a few chapters of a book that didn't have legs, half written songs, lists of things to do... some of them had good stuff inside too. Poems, chapters of value... 

Anyway, I came to realise that somewhere inside of this head, I carry around the weight of all of these unfinished things like an albatross. Once I figured this out - and it was a bit of a lightbulb moment - I tore out all of the pages that needed typing up and threw all of the notebooks and whatever half-assed work was still in them into the box in the kitchen otherwise known as 'recycling'. 

Liberated is how I feel at no longer having ghosts haunting me from the safe distance of a shelf. I have four notebooks left now. These have 'Big Work' inside of them that needs typing up but once I catch up with myself, these can go the same way and then, perhaps one notebook at a time is a good idea. I could always go digital, but that's not really me at all. 

A man who wears glasses should always be seen to be writing with a pen.

Before I forget, I discovered the talents of Peter Callesen earlier today. On the off chance that you might be feeling pleased with yourself about how talented you might be, here's some of his work:

...which certainly put me in my place. Man, I love paper cuts. 

Hmm. All of those words above, I wrote yesterday and meant to post it up this morning. The day kind of took over though and by the time I've gotten around to pressing the Go Button, my glasses arrived. That's pretty good in a world that's mostly not so good at doing what it says it's going to do. I'm impressed.

I'll take a picture sooner or later but I most definitely need at least half a shave before I attempt such folly. I have to tell you though... being able to see the edges on the world around you is quite the revelation. Who knew! 

With what's left of the day, I'm hitting the 12 string thing for an hour or two and then I'm going to bury myself in this - which I swear I only glanced at earlier to see what it was like and lost an hour. If you're lagging behind under the covers with a torch at night, this has turned out to be a great crime series: