Wednesday, June 17, 2009
where i am right now
My deplorable mania for analysis exhausts me.—Gustave Flaubert
What a heavy thing is a pen!—Emile Zola
This is where I am:
* A chair (navy, with wheels)
* Hamilton, Bermuda
* the third floor of an office building
* in the middle of a week-long stay
* next to a stack of books I schlepped out here: The Book of Lost Things, Fire in Fiction, The Creative Habit, Sailing Around the Room, Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary
* within sight of (through a window): nine palm trees and a Royal Poinciana tree; a cluster of office buildings (hundreds of windows!); the Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity; a pink and white house on a distant hill (peeking between buildings); and an unending stream of taxis, buses, trucks, motorbikes…
* nearing a better perspective, I hope. After a hectic, harried, and emotional spring, my writing life limped to the side of the road and collapsed. Poor writing life, lying there and breathing shallowly… So many things came undone this spring that I’m not entirely sure how (or what) to put back together again.
But I came with lists and blank notebooks and a fistful of pens… only to realize, this afternoon, the very great solace of looking out a window. Getting lost in watching the people three stories below.
Wondering if—and then becoming certain that—lists aren’t the key to everything.
Tonight there will be sand and waves and twilight. Some pleasure reading. And maybe writing, maybe, if I can lure it back toward me with something gentle, something sweeter in my hand than another detailed list.—jl
(pictures to come)