I decided to start writing a novel today. Five years from now, it will be regarded as a terrible idea by everyone close to me, but I'm gonna do it anyway, because there are way too many metaphors, microcosms, and paradoxes in this city to let the historians and dying publications have all of them.
I need them all in one place, bound by something tangible, with a thread long enough to tie everyone together. The pieces are floating around in the air, and the humidity is so heavy right now that even smoke from a cigarette can't drift anywhere but down. I might have to pave every square foot of this city with paper to catch all of it, but shit, I'm already halfway there anyway and I have so much free time it's oppressive.
The proposed subject matter kind of ties in with my drive to put in some time in the nonprofit sector here, anyway, so I can theoretically work on this project while I learn how to write grants for people.
In a blog post after my first week at Dig, I wrote, "A week in, and I can already tell that this will be the period of my life when I realize how much, and to what depths, that I hate myself." Maybe that's a cover-all sentiment I can use as a permanent bookmark, to remind myself of those precious few moments I decided to pull the anchor back onto the boat, kick off from the dock, and get something the fuck done.
A day in, and I can already tell that this will be the period of my life when I realize how much, and to what depths, that I hate myself. Here goes round two.
I need them all in one place, bound by something tangible, with a thread long enough to tie everyone together. The pieces are floating around in the air, and the humidity is so heavy right now that even smoke from a cigarette can't drift anywhere but down. I might have to pave every square foot of this city with paper to catch all of it, but shit, I'm already halfway there anyway and I have so much free time it's oppressive.
The proposed subject matter kind of ties in with my drive to put in some time in the nonprofit sector here, anyway, so I can theoretically work on this project while I learn how to write grants for people.
In a blog post after my first week at Dig, I wrote, "A week in, and I can already tell that this will be the period of my life when I realize how much, and to what depths, that I hate myself." Maybe that's a cover-all sentiment I can use as a permanent bookmark, to remind myself of those precious few moments I decided to pull the anchor back onto the boat, kick off from the dock, and get something the fuck done.
A day in, and I can already tell that this will be the period of my life when I realize how much, and to what depths, that I hate myself. Here goes round two.
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