I'm generally lazy. I know this, and I accept it, and furthermore I'm way too long in the tooth to sign up for the Army.* Anyway. The last job I had (read: travelling to paid work) they'd want me in at 10am and I'd roll in at eleven. It got to the point were they'd just be glad to see me, which was odd - though I didn't think so at the time. It not that I can even put it down to drugs.
Where was I?
Music: I haven't written a song in nearly a year. I have instead, switched to poetry and prose. I'm not unhappy, because we rehearse three or four times a week, but I was so intensely into song writing and now the energy, the muse, has gone elsewhere, and I'm worried I won't get it back to music.
Each of us has a great 'work' we have to produce for - well,posterity isn't right ... maybe it's for a shelf in the library of the gods. A 'work' we can be proud of in our final hours. Something we can hold close and say "I did this! It wasn't all for nothing."
I don't think money is important. Ha, fucking ha. We don't need it to survive, to create. Ok, that's fatuous. Money is important. You can't produce shit if you don't eat. Hmm, there's deep for you. This is beginning to be a ghastly ramble, and here it ends.
No! Wait. The question 'what drives me?' I have no idea.
*"Join the Army, and you'll get a grounding in personal discipline that will last you for life" - some dozy relation.