Day 36 of 100, Nordjylland, Danmark
I drank my coffee this morning, watching a cumulonimbus stratifying in the distance, in the pink hue of the morning.
I’m not normally awake at dawn, being of the late night variety, but in the rare instance this happens, I tell myself “I must do this more often.” I suspect these occasional instances of revelation are likely to continue for a long while.
As this one post a day project continues, I’m finding it more difficult to write about stuff at length. Almost since I started this project, I’ve been moving every few days. Singapore > Denmark > Germany > Denmark. In a few days we’re heading back to Germany. Then… I don’t know, but I’m sure we’re going somewhere afterwards.
Moving disrupts everything. All eating, sleeping, working and resting patterns. I got over jetlag in 2 days, but I’m still kind of disoriented by random things like where my shower stuff is, depending on which bathroom I’m in. This sometimes leads to my doing odd things like losing track of the laundry after a shower, and my day pack right as we’re about to leave the house. A routine of chaos takes a while to get settled into as well, though I think I’ve just about found equilibrium with all of them except the writing.
I require a certain amount of space to myself to write. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an entire room to myself, but a fine alternative is simply staying awake till dawn, as everyone sleeping means all the space is mine. It’s neither a practical nor polite thing to do when staying family though, which makes the scrap of paper thing I’ve been doing, perfect. The scrap of paper and pen live in the pocket of my jeans, which I wear all the time since it’s cold. It means I can take advantage of any small pocket of time to write stuff down, and reconstruct everything at the end of the day.
The posts are nondescript, but they’re happening, and it’s the happening that makes all the difference.
Why it makes all the difference, is something I will have to continue tomorrow. The conditions outside are optimum for walking… something I’ve been doing precious little of since touching down in the cold north. Like space given to writing, conditions given to walking must be treated with great deference.
Not sure why this post made me think of this, but from one of my all time favorite, gone too soon, singer/songwriters, Townes Van Zandt:
Days, up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum.
Forget most, remember some
But don’t turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin’ is too much to bear;
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep’s the getting there.
(From “To Live’s to Fly”)
I’ve never heard that before, but the lyrics made me think of another:
Am I alive or thoughts that drift away?
Does summer come for everyone?
Can humans do what prophets say?
If I die before I learn to speak,
Can money pay for all the days I lived awake
But half asleep?
from a “Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In Hand,” the only song I know by Primitive Radio Gods.