I'm A Serial Deconstructor Of My Own

Being Blocked, Being Uncertain, Sitting There Not Knowing, Waiting, Abiding With It: This Is The Work. If You Don't Have The Tolerance For That You're In Great Trouble. If You Want To Call It A Writer's Block... That Doesn't Seem A Very Useful Name For That Kind Of Abiding That I Think Is The Essence Of The Work.

A Reader, Encountering A Sentence About A Barking Dog, Would Have To Dwell On Why That Choice Was Made At That Moment. Everything In A Novel Is Explicitly Chosen, Whereas Some Of What A Film Captures Feels Incidental, According To The Vagaries Of Photography And Sound Recording.

The Past Is Still Visible. The Buildings Haven't Changed, The Layout Of The Streets Hasn't Changed. So Memory Is Very Available To Me As I Walk Around.

My Heart, To Put It More Simply, Got Nostalgic For The Present. Always A Bad Sign.

I Just Noticed Recently That In One Book After Another I Seem To Find An Excuse To Find Some Character Who, To Put It Idiotically Simply, Is Allowed To Talk Crazy.