Advice to myself on getting things done

June 1, 2004

Daubing long do-nothing days. Tired at the end of them. Tucked up four tomato plants in soil, cooked a tofu chilli, went to the shop but turned back, it was closed, Bank Holiday. From putting the basil out in the light at dawn, going to bed, waking up past noon, to now past midnight, don’t recall doing a great deal.

For all it is getting darker later and later now, sunset around 9, the day disappears walking between the garden and the kitchen and the kitchen and the living room. Soon over. I’m supposed to be writing a book. Spend all day getting round to it. Maybe by 3 in the morning I will put in a few hours on it. There seems hardly time to pull a pair of socks on before it’s time to pull them off again.

Last night the sky was black and clear, the Big Dipper stood out, I could even see Alcor without binoculars. In my mind I get flashes of interesting things that happened in the day. There was a beautiful cloud formation, nothing special, but perfectly understated. I lean on the concrete wall at the end of the garden watching Canada geese mooching around the dusk playing fields, a cat chasing flies. I wire a stem of wild sweetpea to the fence. The day is rushing by and I’m not doing very much.

I only have one thing I really have to do, besides wash up and eat, and that’s work on a book. But I spend ages and ages not doing it. I wonder sometimes whether just thinking about it counts. I can’t say as I dislike my life, because I have given up wanting anything else. I have a few goals, I’ll reach them I know but I do wonder when exactly I’ll put some effort in. I’m gradually realising that the harder I try, the less I achieve. Now I’m going the other way.