I pride myself on being able to write anywhere, nigh anytime, but my special hideaway for nearly half a decade has been Bar Ristretto. Wonderful Andy shuts the doors tomorrow and I’m on the hunt for a new morning home. I’ll just mosey around till a cosy place beckons.
A minor cold and suddenly it’s clear 2018 won’t offer case studies of how transformative Big Years can be. My Stillness Big Year – 10 minutes of Headspace a day – still works but that’s only because it’s trivially simple. The others:
1,000 Big Year: I don’t come anywhere near 1,000 words written a day, I’m not waking early, work is being done but probably the wrong work . . . you get the picture.
Freshness Big Year: Injury plus cold plus another cold mean all my annual targets are shot and I haven’t cycled in a fortnight.
Tractor Big Year: My afternoon one-hour “study how to publish and prosper” routine still gets honored in the breech (I’m learning heaps as I get Deadly Investment into online bookshops) but its regularity, that soothing regularity, has vanished.
Time to regroup . . . the very fact that I keep having to regroup every couple of months suggests the design of the 2018 Big Years was badly flawed . . . ah well, time to regroup . . .
Doesn’t this brilliant photograph capture our anomie in this brutal universe? How do you cope? I tilt for the moon with my Big Years.
(Photo by eric anada from Pexels)
Sigh . . . I used to blithely head down to the Yarra and pad alongside its sluggish brown beauty. Now, recovered from muscle misbehaviour but coughing and spluttering, all I do is loops of my dull old streets.
At night I dream of lazy waters . . .
No details because the idea is only 10% formed but this The Eastern Curlew: The Extraordinary Life of a Migratory Bird by noted Melbourne ornithologist Harry Saddler has leapt out at me with the force of a bullet train. Saddler has apparently (based on Amazon’s blurb and Tim Flannery’s excellent October 13 review in The Weekend Australian Review) travelled, low budget and low key, to “see” the amazing Eastern Curlew in its environs. Can’t wait to read it . . .