Feedback Friday :: A Rite of Spring

Yesterday I had to write 20 articles on servicing and repairing German cars for a garage in the Midlands. My focus is poor for subjects in which I can summon up no earthly enthusiasm, so I didn't finish until around 3am. Then, as I was still feeling fine and fresh and positively carbonated, I set about finishing the only other job I had to finish this week — Indonesian Street Food. Piece of cake.

When I finished that at around 6am, that was it. No more of that for a short while. Which is to say, I've taken three weeks' holiday from regular, reliable but low-paying agency work to concentrate on finding my own clients.

That's right.

It's time to put my balls in the microwave.

Eat my week.

:: 12st 9
alcohol consumed :: I think around 7.5 pints of lager beer.
days without alcohol :: Maybe 2. 
days I got to sleep before 1am :: 1
days I started work before 9am :: 4  
days I worked more than 10 hours :: 2
days I never left the house :: 0
days I smoked marijuana before 6pm :: 2. Weekend. Doesn't count. 
days I smoked marijuana before 3pm :: 1
copywriting jobs completed :: 8
other writing jobs ongoing :: 2
back sessions :: 5
physical gym visits :: 1
metaphysical gym visits :: 0
medical concerns :: 1.5
doctor's appointments made :: 0
libraries joined :: 0
missing packages :: 1
approximate number of hours spent learning Dutch :: 3
cinema visits :: 3
reviews written :: 0
reviews pending :: 5. I'm living on the edge. 
plants kept alive :: 5
money owed to Donald Trump :: none
routine adhesion :: 45%
week 11/52 overall rating :: 8.5. Met some new people, tried some new things, made an important decision and acted on it. Plus: SPRING! 

painters & parakeets

Winter, last month. SAD.

So I've been up all night. And I'm now listening to Erik Satie. It took me a while to find the right music for this blog post, and for this morning, but this is it.

I'm a little bit wrecked, mostly mental exhaustion, partly Spring Fever, partly weed.

It's nice that I've been up all night though. I'm enjoying it. I haven't stayed up all night for a long time and just falling into it tonight as I did felt special, somehow like a celebration of my decision to push myself a little harder. Staying up is like an act of rebellion. An act of rebellion is a rite of Spring. Just say yes. 

I wrote something maybe 12 or 13 years ago when I was living in West Norwood, and I believe I'd stayed up all night till the morning light then too — I think I'd been taking drugs that night though, as opposed to writing about exhaust pipes. The thing I did write, however, was about Spring. It was a nice little descriptive bit about sap and hope and finches and I'm sure, great aching sobs of potential. I later repurposed it for a section of the Bête de Jour book. Aaaah, words. Good old words.

So I've written about Spring before. I probably write something about it every year. And every year it gets harder to say anything new. But maybe I don't have to say anything new. Maybe I don't have to say anything at all. Could it be? Is it possible that the tulips would still shout, even without my encouragement? Could they be that brazen? The little hussies.

Yes. Maybe it's enough just to greet the Spring. Stay up late and watch it creep in. Turn the heat down, pack the gloves away, cast the clout. Fuck it. Last one in the river's a miserable jessie! 

I just looked out up at the sky though, and I tell you, it fair took my breath away. Literally. Made me gasp.  

I saw the sky, you see, dusty blue with lines of fat white puffers chugging by, intermittently but fast, and I saw one parakeet glide overhead in a perfect arc and maybe fifty metres off to the right a magpie all fanned out like a giant mask, gliding in another direction, and the sun glinting in the windows in the flats on the other side of the gardens.


Then as I was writing the above paragraph a little finch spent about a minute seemingly trying to fly through the glass in my windows and into my room, over and over again.

That sounds implausible I know.

But it's true. It's not the first time it's done it either. But it was definitely the most poignant. And we'll always have it. That night I stayed up. That moment. Little Peter and I. 

I was going to go to the gym today, but I think I've changed my mind about that. Instead, I'm thinking maybe a wander, maybe a bike ride, maybe a museum, maybe I'll fall asleep in a park and roll into a canal or pond.

Nobody knows. 

Keep living! 


Photo from here. Thanks! 

About the Author

I am Karl Webster. I wrote these words. If you liked them, you'll be overjoyed to know that there are plenty more where they came from. So you should definitely sign up to my newsletter if you haven't already.

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