I Don't Like Travelling If I Know

If I'm Stuck, I Get Up From My Chair And I Wash Windows. Or... Clean The Bathroom. Or Vacuum The Attic. There's Always Something To Be Done.

When Forced To Leave My House For An Extended Period Of Time, I Take My Typewriter With Me, And Together We Endure The Wretchedness Of Passing Through The X-ray Scanner. The Laptops Roll Merrily Down The Belt, While I’m Instructed To Stand Aside And Open My Bag. To Me It Seems Like A Normal Enough Thing To Be Carrying, But The Typewriter’s Declining Popularity Arouses Suspicion And I Wind Up Eliciting The Sort Of Reaction One Might Expect When Traveling With A Cannon. It’s A Typewriter,’ I Say. ‘you Use It To Write Angry Letters To Airport Security.

I Just Looked At The Pattern Of My Life, Decided I Didn't Like It, And Changed.

Write Relentlessly, Until You Find Your Voice. Then, Use It.

Of Course, The Diary Helps Me As Well. 'that Wasn't Your Position On July 7, 1991,' I'll Remind Hugh An Hour After We've Had A Fight. I'd Have Loved To Rebut Him Sooner, But It Takes Awhile To Look These Things Up.