I am not so vain that I put my initials into a mosaic path for all to see as they passed them by. Actually, I snapped this on the walk between Santa Monica and Venice Beach. It was serendipitous stumble across the unexpected. And doesn't that happen a lot? One minute you are strolling six thousand or so miles from home and then suddenly something triggers a thought, and action, an idea, or in this case, serves to flatter. Of course I share these initials with many - and probably the person who laid the path - but its odd that I should travel so far to stumble upon it. Writing is like that, when asked how come he wrote so many songs, Bob Dylan once said, 'They are just there, hanging around, I am just there to pluck them out of the trees.' Its waiting for that moment and being aware that at any moment a given idea, a story, a song will be there, what you have to do is make sure you have the time to develop it. Of course time is the great problem in modern life, hence why I have a notebook full of unfulfilled ideas, although I have done ok. But it also means that at a given time, there will be one big project to be done and so I have such a project bubbling at the moment. Will it get written? Time will tell but I hope so. And so for the time being, I am about to have breakfast and then hit the supermarket, the thirty-five locusts who swept through our house last week (celebrating Diane's fiftieth birthday) stripped it bare of all provisions, wine, water and washing up liquid. So basic provisions required - onwards, I will be listening to my new ideas as I walk down the aisles. Maybe I will wear my iPod and listen to this, so I can run around picking up provisions at breakneck speed and still hear some fab virtuosos:
