Me this morning, at the Kerouac House in Orlando.
Imagine if your life was all about something like studying spiders. There are tons of spiders to study, and they are complex and elegant things, but this life is so removed from what I do, it is hard for me to imagine it. I like to imagine a dusty, white haired type in thick glasses and a thicker sweater. I don't know why I think these arachnologists would live in England, but I do. Only, they go on expeditions, to, like, Costa Rica.
It's likely good to be an arachnologist.
Now, to be an anarchist has perks, too. They don't often involve travel to Costa Rica, I think, generally. But, who knows?
When you are an anarchist there are no rules.
In fiction, there are very few rules to me now. I have a list of about 5 specific constraints for my work (subject matter I don't care to ever write about, and qualities that I wish to be absent from my work) and that's what I'm doing now. That's it. The rest of it constantly evolves, and I love that. I'm doing things with my fiction now that I wouldn't have dreamed of doing a year ago. To bring in more experimentation has been rewarding on some levels. I just hope it doesn't prove tedious to read.
The cleanse continues to move along. I think it is opening up my mental channels. I ate very little yesterday. Pretty much just teas, though they were sweetened with agave. I feel extra clear headed this morning.
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