Reflections on literature, writing, and the writing life
Sunday, January 1, 2017
It was like He said Let's put a black box around your head and cut a small ragged circular hole in it right in the center just above the bridge of your nose and cover the hole with a million year old, scratched up gray filter. Then let's light the room with dim red bulbs accented with a silver bright flashing strobe light. And let's fill the room with fog like sublimating dry ice and then send you in to pick up a thousand black pins from the deep pile dark green carpet. If it doesn't seem right just keep at it until it does. And not knowing any better you do.