Perfection

I should be tidying up in the kitchen and clearing the rubbish from the living room floor. The decorator finally finished the living room - and then we went out and bought a unit to put the TV on and some storage. IKEA is our second home.

But no, instead of tidying up (I will do it, promise) I'm sat here in front of my trusty iMac, blogging, updating my own and reading others'. Jane Wiedlin is pumping out of the speakers. It's strange, iTunes says I've only ever played Rush Hour four times. I can't quite believe it. Oh, I see why now. It jumps at 2:40. I have two versions of the track. I must delete the bad one. I hate imperfection.

But, hell, what or who is perfect? No-one and nothing. That's a nettle we all must grasp sooner or later. Life's not perfect, and that's why I hate it.

If only life were like a lump of clay that one could manipulate into something beautiful, something perfect. The clay/potter's wheel analogy is fine, only in life, there are far more than one pair of hands poking at it. Each pair of hands has different ideas, different hopes, different dreams, different fears... Too many cooks spoil the broth and too many hands at the potters wheel make for something ugly. There really is no escape from that. Once in a while though, a brief glimpse at something beautiful is possible, though take your eye off of it and you'll probably never see it again.

Oh shit, now Jason Donovan is on. I have to skip to thee next track. Joan Baez, Help Me Make It Through The Night. That's better.

Why do I keep Jason on iTunes if I dislike him so? Well, he had a few hits at the end of the 80s and beginning of the 90s. They were my teenage years and every now and then, it's nice to have a reminder of happy times. Some of the happiest times of my life where when I was a teen boy.

Does everyone say that?

Oh, anyone care to count how many clichés I've used in this entry? Certainly not as many as J K Rowling could have mustered.