TEMECULA, 2 May 2011
Well into spring and it’s nearly impossible to tell what time it is. The influx of daylight is morally taxing. When this happens–spring that is–I am absolutely incapable of working until after the sun has set. This was fine when it was winter. Winter’s light carries less clout. Winter nights breed discipline.
In the spring, I sleep more and do less because there are fewer hours to do. In summer, I am so occupied with doing nothing that by the time I set my nose to the proverbial (and Narc Anon condoned) grindstone it’s already the third season of the year. Trees are naked and I’m already wearing a scarf.
In autumn, I repent. I swear to change and by the time the days have whittled down to just a few hours I have changed. I am a new man. Or a renewed one. For three months I live, breathe, and occasionally sleep discipline. Then the days start getting longer and I become cognizant of the fact that I have nine very serious months of fucking-off on the horizon.
– Shago Martin as told to The Neapolitan Mastiff.