interior clutter

I am listening to the audiobook version of Steven Johnson's new book "Where Good Ideas Come From." One of his postulates is that there is a certain amount of chaos required for innovation to happen. He proves this by an inverted Freudian interpretation of dreams; basically saying that our brains fire random synapses and connect things totally randomly, and it is only later in waking life that we connect or attribute meanings there, but all the resources for our dreams are just sitting there in a junk heap. The static noise of sleep juxtaposes unlike things in a surreal way, which can seem like flashes of insight upon waking.

So if chaos is sort of good, what does this mean for housekeeping? Should one live in chaos or order or a good mixture of both? While fixing motorcycles, order is of the utmost importance with regard to finding tools, but it has also become clear to me the value of having a yard full of junk in which one can pull any manor of scrap on hand and adapt it for useful purposes. Thankfully now all the world's junkyards are now connected with eBay, so there isn't so much danger of skulking around places frequented by drunk fat men in wife beaters shooting rats, or free-range spiked collared Rottweiler mixes, but perhaps out of sight may really be out of mind? What I'm after in this blog is simplifying my life by getting rid of some of the internal and external clutter that hampers my pursuit of happiness.

This weekend, I fixed a Ducati Motorcycle that was declared doomed by two authorized shops as not worth the price for a professional repair person to fix. I just took a risk, bought the offending part off some junkyard on ebay, and the thing runs like a top now, better than I have ever know it to. So, now I have to ask myself if I really want to keep it (along with my four other bikes). I'll take a week to ride and feel it out. It is fun but kind of like skydiving probably is fun. I don't need to have that kind of fun in my life on a daily basis, and there are things I need more.

I am in Technolust for a new 13" MacBookPro. I swear to god Macintosh designs are like drugs. Damn you, Johnathan Ive (with fists balled and eyes turned heavenward)! Ever since I allowed myself to fantasize about it I have felt the pull to a mac store like water going down the drain. My heart beats fast just thinking of it. I want to leave work early to buy it, I want to stroke it all night, I want I want I want>>> Desires are inexhaustable. I've got at least four out-of-date or slightly broken computers cluttering the field, but nothing on which to write my November Novel.