At Bar Ristretto. Often the thought occurs that if I had my time again, I’d work on something different. Chapter 6 is humongous, so much so that (channelling Monty Python) my brain hurts. I’m looking forward to seven days all-in work in Darwin. No interruptions. None. Not a one.
Scornful and insulting.
Pressure, pressure, pressure, most of it self-imposed. I’m working away from home next week, there’s a ton of minor tasks to complete for that to happen, I’m pushing hard at data catch-ups, the material is complex, my head hurts, my heart hurts, why aren’t there more hours in the day?
It’s always the same. I breathe deep and long. Time to slow, time to patiently address one job after another. It’s always the same.
I recommend trying your own variant of this Big Year. What culture do you really love? Do you bemoan lack of time to attend to it? Well, just make yourself tackle a book, an album, a painting, a movie, each and every day. No exceptions.
Me, I’ve stuck to my Big Year. Every day of this 2017 so far, I’ve listened, quite carefully, to a new album. Each album gets three listens. I’m at 28 albums for the year so far, and the effect on my love of music has exploded. 28 albums isn’t many but it’s many enough to have me pretending I’m an “expert” on the current music scene. I’ve a passionate interest on what is out there. Scouring the world’s record shelves (these days, digital lists) is a wondrous pastime, hearing fresh, inspired rock music inspires me daily.
My tastes are inevitably rather narrow (but more fulsome than many people’s, I’d wager). I have tried to branch out, though old favourites do recur. I strive to “go young” with artists.
As an example of what a roving ear can hear over a quarter year, take a look at my 28 albums on the Pinterest board I’ve set up.