I have a virus. It's not swine flu, but it is something that saps my energy and makes my head and knees hurt. Yesterday I woke up already wanting to go back to bed. I went to the office instead. I did not have to go to my office, didn't particularly want to go, but I needed to go. I needed the comfort of the walls, windows, desk and door because viruses are viruses, but something else has hold of my soul lately and won't let go. Or perhaps it is something that is losing its grip on my soul and is clawing desperately trying not to slip away. Language has always saved me, set me free or at least set things straight for me, but words are harder to come by lately and they sometimes fail me completely. And when the words fail, the sentences break and whole structures creak and then collapse. On the days when I need a box to put the broken pieces of my salvation in, I go downtown to my office, because when words fail me, I need the walls, windows, desk and door. I need a job. I need an architecture I understand.

The saving grace of an office and structure is underestimated by too many in the writing world.
Posted by: Ace | November 01, 2009 at 08:11 AM