December 28th, 2010
Really that’s just no excuse, but I think it becomes a reason for me sometimes. I like the Data character in Star Trek because I would like an emotion chip that I could control. I’m sure my husband would like to control this emotion chip as well, but I wouldn’t like that, my libido would go haywire, let’s face it you know where he would have that set and then forget writing, working or ever getting the dishes done. It would be one long lie in and I don’t think it would be a lie in for peace.
On that subject, we did discuss the other day doing a lie in for peace, it was the third day of our vacation and we didn’t want to get up and we thought, what if we just did a lie in for peace starting now? We realized there were a few problems. One, we were unlikely to affect world peace because no one knows who we are or that we are doing this lie in. Secondly, Mark immediately thought he could get out of the lie in once in a while to write or go to the press, which I believe destroys the whole point of a lie in. Well, it was an idea.
But back to writing and emotion. If you are angry, it’s easy to write. I wrote volumes after the divorce, and strangely not because I was all that angry at my spouse, I wasn’t. I was angry at myself for having failed. Most of the anger I have experienced in my life has been at myself for failures. (Why do you think I have migraines?) I was angry and I wrote.
When I’m angry, scared or happy I can write. But sadness isn’t a good place for writing I don’t think. What people do when they’re sad—some drink. Some do coke, heroin, etc.
I like to be alone. I don’t like to drink nor do I have comfort foods when I’m sad. I’m not Jewish. Or comfort rituals. Actually, writing in a journal helps, but blogging or trying to write real work does not work. Journal writing is private writing, nobody is going to see it anyway. Blogging and whatever writing project you are working on are public writing and that’s the thing, writing something for the public is still like going out into a room and showing yourself and that’s the last thing you want to do if you’re sad. Writers like to be alone anyway,
If I’m sad, then I like to sit alone and write in my journal, in the immortal words of Emily,
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!