Thursday, July 2, 2009


Writing used to be my whole life.

For the three years I was paid to report for newspapers I wrote virtually every day. But it wasn't as glamorous as it sounds; trying to create news to fill a hole on page four (or wherever it was - I never knew) rapidly became as unfulfilling as cleaning a toilet: it was my job, I had to do it, but no one ever noticed when I did.

(They sure noticed if I didn't do it, though; I was definitely in the shithouse then.)

I now resist writing for all the reasons I resist shopping at Frenchy's: as a consequence of once being obligated to do it, now I choose not to. Even if it's good for me.

The thing is, it is good for me. My voice is occasionally interesting, sometimes funny and now and then what I have to say is remarkable.

If I let my voice out I let me out.

I need out.

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