my computer is with those wily geniuses at the mac store.
yes, i know it's brand new computer. yes, i realize not much time has passed for it have already gone kaput. yes, i recognize that the whole thing is a comment on me (in some--if not many ways).
yes, i know i should not be allowed to drink coffee near the device. i know now, okay!
this is all to say, i am computer-less.
and really, really exhausted so maybe for the best that i take a bit of a break.
see you in a few.
Uncategorized
thought you might like to see (what's above my desk):
i had two goals this week.
1. to exercise
2. to sit down and write
i did neither.
i did however, attempt to create a better work space--one conducive to writing. this involved switching desks, trading my stool for a left-behind-chair, turning my bookcase to create a faux-wall and thus sectioned-off-office (yes, my manhattan dwelling room is that big).
the picture is of what's above this new desk, in this new "writing" office: a reminder of past and present and the tether along which both run and change and meet.
so that's something. this next week: the actual writing.
at some point, a few weeks ago...
in a moment of sentience, i logged onto amazon.com and ordered the books i've been wanting and needing (books i've been thinking about for months). there is a book on the mechanics of writing, jonathan safran foer's first work--a collection of works inspired by joseph cornell (which i had misread as joseph campbell and thus expected something all together {and yet, not}). there is brian andreas' story people and at the last moment, i included in my bundle, leaping: revelations & epiphanies (having only just discovered this brian doyle character).
two days ago mr. doyle's work arrived in the mail, an answer to a prayer i hardly knew i had.
one of the first pieces is an essay on writing--on why he writes, on why anyone writes, really.
i often tell people i'm a writer. and feel fraudulent as i do so. what do you write, they ask? and i hardly know how to answer that. but this term "writer" it covers all manners of sins, no? and perhaps one day, i will be and i will claim the title with some authority, having actually written something that wings beyond this little corner of the internet. and because i intend to one day actually be such--a writer--i found the essay particularly important and meaningful. so indulge me, will you? allow me to share bits and pieces of it here?
(bits and pieces of ) WHY I WRITE | BRIAN DOYLE
I look over the essays I have published over the course of twenty years of diligent scribbling and am astonished at their riotous incoherence...If there is a theme in all this it completely eludes the author, who feels that he has wandered into a pathless forest and is thrashing his way home armed with only a pen.
Which is sort of the point. Thrashing toward the light with a sharp pen is what writers do.
Why? [why write]
Because, as the fine essayist E. M. Forster said, "How can I know what I think until I see what I say?"
Because there have been times in my life when the only way I could handle rage and horror and fear was to write it down and thus fend it off, fight it, force it to retreat, understand it, hurt it.
Because writing is a form of contemplation and a form of prayer.
Because writing occasionally leads to rapture.
Because writing is a way to connect electrically and directly with other people, which we crave, while generally preserving privacy, which we also crave. ("Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself," wrote Walt Whitman.)
Because writing is a form of performance that does not demand physical grace or youth, and writers, despite their craving for privacy, like to be the center of attention, usually intermittently, rather than continually like film stars and Bill Clinton.
Because writers are, deep in their souls, didacts who itch to deliver the Unvarnished Truth and cannot help but unburden themselves of that which burns in their hearts. Writers are preachers.
...It's what I do, and what I love to do, and no one else can do it quite like I do.
Better, perhaps--but not with my particular flavor and music, and somehow, in a way I do not wholly understand, that is important, and in a very real sense miraculous, and necessary.
image
via.
i was going to wake up and post something brilliant.
i reorganized my room instead. (it looks like a disaster now, but the day is calling and i must hence...).
meet back here tomorrow?
xo
meg
to those who may be in the business of granting birthday wishes...
i turn 26 in less than two weeks. and my trepidation at the larger number has me wanting to celebrate
it all! and intensely! i want to see my friends and throw a party and stay out all night dancing and ask for extravagant gifts because...why not?! well, i know why not, but i can at least ask for them, no?
three things topping my list:
1. a really nice camera bag. yes, this one is expensive. but here's how i think of it: i spent a lot of money on my camera. i want to invest in the very thing that will help protect it. i want it to be stylish so i can feel good about lugging it (and thus the camera) anywhere and i want it to be able to double as a place to put my wallet. so for a purse/camera bag...steal, i say! or, at least, wise investment.
2. dinner at pure food and wine. the food is vegetarian, vegan, and raw (not to mention organic and local). not everyone's food dream, it is mine.
3. a record player. because why not?
there are of course other things i want...like an unlimited, lifetime supply of massages from my favorite place on 80th or a facial at bliss or even a reflexology session at angel feet in the west village. but for now, i'll stick with these three.
(for anyone who might remark on how expensive this all is: it's a wish/dream list and a birthday/christmas wish list, at that.
and i don't expect to get everything i ask for so calm down, already).