The Smell In The Boot (Both Literally And Metaphorically)
May 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve stopped to think on more than one occasion, “It’s just my luck to dedicate myself to some writing mere days before getting inundated with the heaviest work load I’ve had in years.” With a yoga retreat, a festival and a school group all spending consecutive nights at the resort, I’ve been clocking up seventeen or more hours most days. If I haven’t been looking after guests I’ve been sleeping.
But then I started to think back to when I was in my early twenties. Nothing was too much, ever. I had five jobs at one point and still went out every single night to see bands playing, creating a fanzine at the same time and playing in up to three bands at once. Does the problem lay not in a lack of time, but in a lack of motivation?
It’s something I’ve felt time and time again over the last few years, and variably attribute it to getting older, getting calmer, getting out of the city, getting a partner, getting something. Perhaps it’s more a loss that’s involved, although I’m not sure what it is I’ve lost. A sense of purpose? A direction? A plan? Energy? Willpower? Confidence? Belief? Space?
I had to drive our car into Wauchope today (I’m sitting in the Wauchope Public Library writing this) to have it cleaned of the overpowering stench that’s emanating from the boot. If I had started an underground business in body removal I couldn’t have a worse smelling car right now. On one of the recent shops a box seemingly leaked an unidentifiable potent fluid. It may have been juice from the bottom of a broccoli container, it may have been fish oil seeping from an otherwise sealed esky. I’m not sure. All I know is when I sat in the driver’s seat to come in a smell that reminded me faintly of rotting seaweed in the hot sun curled up into my nostrils and settled down like a cat in a cushion.
I drove in with all four windows down and the heater on to counter the cold air. It was strangely like being on a beach; a feeling of warmth on my skin, a cold breeze blowing my hair about (sitting in a car with the wind blowing through is one of those distinct times it is very clear whether or not one needs a haircut – I do), that seaweed stench marinating through everything. With a certain amount of creative willpower, it was almost pleasant.
So it appears that this creative drive is there when a demand is manifested, I just need to work out how to call up that demand with ease. I’ve been asked to write an article for a fairly well-read newsletter next week, so that’s something I can start with I suppose.
I hope that smell is a faint remnant clinging to my nose hairs and not in my jacket.