Confounded by an upload process that defies all attempts by its instigator to ascertain progress, I am back in the office. I spend most of my days looking at a holding screen, desperately hoping to see a message of success only to be greeted a regrettable percentage of the time by one of failure. The uploads of two days ago were presumed complete and so yesterday I took a day of writing evaluations, measuring my processes against methodologies in vain – my claims were ill-founded, the uploads did not upload and the archive still remains to be archived.
Still, there is worse work than this. Occupying a friends office, padding about making myself coffee, leaving now and again for noodles, checking the weblogs of friends... a nice sort of a routine, one that doesn't feel routine. My own practice is slowly coming into shape once more too. Detached for some time from music and writing I can begin again, with a couple of album launches to attend and the serious matter of finishing an ending saga.
The cold is bitter today. There is no snow in town, but the garden of my house is still covered white and the cars on the concrete outside still ease their way into fresh light grey parking spaces, leaving twin tracks. Mundane activities like looking for shoes and clothes without holes offer passing respite to my hours, coffee with friends, also perhaps a visit to the cinema or concert. I am also looking for an apartment and shall visit some potentials this weekend, hoping to find somewhere to hole up until spring comes. Hurry, hurry, I am tired!