It's been a tough month, but hey, the final furlong is ahead, only one more week until the bountiful harvest (or slim pickins - depending on one's perspective) arrives, and a brief respite from the world may be granted. Anyway. Besides listening to (and learning) Bonnie Raitt's Angel from Montgomery, I've been thinking a lot about everything that's happened (or rather: not happened) in terms of the so-called 'job offers' the British academic community supposedly give. Much like Britain's trade deals, they are with places like Narnia, Rainbowland and the Fairy Forest. They are what the French call, lutin ou farfadet, little elves or sprites.
It's actually pretty cool, by the way. I always imagine I am back in a band situation, on the road, playing music, professionally, with one outstand guitarist (Steve Pearson). Instead of having been offered gigs, we have to make our own way, little Ronulus and I (when I was on the road, not so long ago, little Ronulus earned the title Aureolus meaning in Latin 'glittering, shining with gold' or 'little gold mine' as I like to call him. My Cantab' terrier is so unbelievably cute, he earned more money than I did). Anyhow.
So I got to thinking what would it be like to be put in a drop zone (id est far away on the Continent: Spain, France, Italy, wherever) and not have pre-arranged any gigs (work, in my way of looking at things nowadays, post having become educated to a considerable degree - two, in fact, I hold a Magister Artium in classical Latin now). This is the way it always was in bands, for me at least, on the streets in far off lands where you have to pick up the language, quickly, think on your feet, adapt, keep your wits about you at all times. We always used to piss up all our spare cash from gigs or whatever on the ferry or plane. You always land with nothing, then by suppertime the following day, several bars will have booked you (without fail). But why? Because Steve Pearson was a goddamn demon on the gee-tar, that's why. It was like having Jimmy Hendrix in the band for heaven's sake. I'm serious. And as for me, well, I'm an all singing, all dancing walking radio (Steve couldn't sing for toffee, but the good Lord saw to it that I could, thankfully).
Anyway. Steve's all washed up, and instead of gee-tars, free booze, bands and broads, we've now books, learning, knowledge, perhaps even a little wisdom, if not as much prudence and discretion as I would like to yet have.
So, as the late savant and dear friend of mine Didier Deman once said, "It's not the learning which is important, but the application of that learning to something practical and useful." This is the boat I'm in. No job offers. Nothing. All I have is my wits, my industrious work ethic, and the will to make it all happen. It's up to you, because no-one else is going to do it for you. Believe in the power of positive thinking (or at least, that's what I keep telling myself, and it seems to be working).
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