A funny thing Football is. There’s a part of me that views it as my dirty little secret when I’m trying to pretend I’m some kind of intellectual cultured traveller. This is less of a thing these days but undeniably I barely talked football when I ran around as a little hippy activist back in the day. Seemingly the worlds we move in through life change, or a better word may be evolve, and if we’re making the effort to live life not necessarily to the full, but realistically at atleast seventy to eighty percent then it’s not unreasonable to imagine we move throughout a few worlds within our lifetimes.
I wonder if it’s even possible to fully know the world you’re currently inhabiting. Maybe that’s also a ridiculous statement as its probably quite obvious sometimes, but more that if you’re experiencing life in a way in which you’re not thinking too much about who you are or your image within such a world then there’s a chance you just exist. It could be a case of embracing and being true to the moment or some such thing.
I just re-read that last paragraph and now might be a good time to mention I’m struggling with an horrendous hangover, rambling mindlessly without any kind of point in sight. In regards to my ability to write with a stinker of a hangover though I think I have improved from my last effort about a month ago when it took me about three days to write anything coherent again and even then coherent may be a little generous. That’s one of the things this blog is though, some self indulgent observations of course, but for a large chunk it was and still is about the experiment of writing for a year everyday and what that means in various real situations. This hangover while driving back to Scotland is very much then another real situation in which I attempt to write something you may actually want to read. Saying all that, it’s probably not the most interesting thing I’ll ever write.
I’m on the boat across the Irish Sea at the moment, just watched some film about bird watchers. It was alright but I can see why I’ve never heard of it before. The point being though that they found themselves in Alaska at one point and I remembered how much I want to sail around some crazy remote northern or southern areas. I nearly went on a trip last year to Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America with this crazy eighty old Alaskan. In the end I dropped out because his engine looked a long way from ever working and he talked too much. Antarctica, Alaska, the Arctic…all the best places seem to begin with an A
Observations and Misunderstandings 