It Really Doesn’t Matter
I was out this morning to clear snow from an elderly relative’s driveway. As today has been (relatively) warm and the snow is melting rapidly, it may have been superfluous effort. On the other hand, it was definitely upper-body exercise, so I don’t mind.
That was, though, the excitement for the day.
The rest of the afternoon and early evening was largely spent staring at a print of three-thousand or so words and figuring out how to fix them. The answer, which was structural and still provisional, came eventually, but a lot of staring into space was involved in the process. I couldn’t possibly confirm or deny that Zinfandel might be implicated too. I say ‘largely’ spent because I also revisited the first two episodes of Westworld season 1, and may well end up rewatching the rest of the series.
***
Music: The Beatles, from Sgt. Pepper. Apropos of nothing, after repeated listenings, I’ve concluded that Sgt. Pepper is best listened to in Mono, as originally recorded. Fixing a Hole.
McCartney has since said about the song that: Fixing a Hole’ was about all those pissy people who told you, ‘Don’t daydream, don’t do this, don’t do that.’ It seemed to me that that was all wrong and that it was now time to fix all of that. Mending was my meaning. Wanting to be free enough to let my mind wander, let myself be artistic, let myself not sneer at avant-garde things.
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