Stuck In Nowhere-land

Why did i think that isolation would breed productivity?

I write this as a warning to those that would think so; It doesn't. I've totemised this essay to the point where i have to work myself up to a zen-like hollowness of being before attempting even the most inconsequential of note taking. I partially blame the early deadline. Deadlines warp the normal passing of time.

The rate that time passes is a function of the time left before the deadline, with the days immediately before stretching out to unforseen, torturous lengths.

Anyway, i went out and about around Camden last night in an attempt to break the cycle, and even though i awoke horrendously late this morning and with a moderate hangover, i feel oddly cleansed. I suppose i, at least partially, succeded. I think it's odd that i find drinking to be like a kind of detoxification. After i get over the initial guilt (both monetary and for my body) i always have this 'cleansed' feeling, for want of a better word.

I've been listening to a lot of music by a man called Luke Haines recently, as well as releasing records under his own name, he was the most prominent creative force behing the bands The Auteurs and Black Box Recorder. His music as an appealing cocktail of acerbic, dark wordplay and perfect pop hooks.

Ere iz a video ov im dat u can watsh.

Lyrics in pop music seem to matter to me much more than they ever used to, and it's not that the music matters less. I suppose that the sub-genres i used to be into included words as an afterthought rather than a focal point, and i do like words. I've also gained more of an appreciation for brevity, to the point where i find it very difficult to listen to anything past the four minute mark. A pop song should never need to go beyond four minutes, in my opinion.

After much consideration, i've finally came up with a New Year's resolution for myself: Only use adjectives where absolutely necessary.