It isn't often I'm awake before 7 AM, usually for the wrong reasons, but today I was. Having been gigging/drinking for the previous 3 nights, I hit the hay fairly early last night, and woke up about 6.45 as a result. I could remember my dreams, usually a bad sign in recent years, but wholly pleasant this time. I felt perfectly content.

My sister nags me that I see things as being really average or really crap, and it's certainly true that I can name the times when I've felt really happy, so they must be fewer in number. Isn't that how it should be ? Food loses its allure if it's on a silver platter every day. I certainly don't feel miserable most of the time, though. There's just constantly something I feel I need to be getting on with- all pretty selfish in nature. I don't have anyone to provide for other than myself. What's selfish about not squandering your talent, though ?

Contentment and happiness are two different things, but maybe they get closer as you get older. For me, happiness is still a pretty fizzy thing. Being in love, playing in a good band, listening to the McGarrigles singing "The Swimming Song". Contentment usually goes with silence. One time recently my flat and block were completely silent, just the sound of traffic on the main road, quite distant. It reminded me of my parents' old house. My own mental chatter just ceased. That is a simply blissful feeling. This morning was a kind of cross between the two, so that's how it's eked this out of me.