It was not always so for me though. Irony exhibits its wicked grin as I wonder how it was only a few years ago that I debated in favour of money being everything. How I was ready to sacrifice my weekends and spend twelve hours a day in an office if only the industry was kind enough to reward me in the equal. How I had ambitions. But I suppose Mr. Ambition has been inconspicuous of late. There have not been any rebellions for glory. No one urges me to walk faster. No one minds if I spend my afternoons in siesta. As for me, I find the tiresome Mr. Ambition more agreeable when he is stoned and on a trip of his own, leaving me and my beautiful Lady Laziness to cuddle.
It is in this very spout of inactivity that I have been able to put my thoughts in order. Indulgence in activities that appease me and shunning of those that I see of no consequence. An impecunious lifestyle rather than a affected pomp pretense. A more practical line of thought compared to my earlier quixotic fantasies. It has also been in this very cradle of time-less-ness that I have revived by earlier hobbies and continued with a certain few I recently picked up. Reading books had always been a pleasure for me, one that I left for no reason justifiable to my self. Watching movies is a contemporary one, as is my addiction to blues and rock.
Still, all said and done, each one finds his own drug, either in activity or the lack of it. To each his own, as they say. I, however, have fallen in the fifth level of Dante's inferno. Living and enjoying the sin: a life in suspended animation, one of immaculate lucidity of thoughts and pristine motivations for action.