July 15, 2020
I’ve spent the last seven days unplugged and locked in my friend’s apartment, writing. Well, not literally locked in. I left for walks and things. But mostly I wrote. Also napped. But mostly wrote.
The documentation of the process is exhaustive and exhausting, and it’s mostly for me, and not really for you–but if you’re struggling with shit, and reading about other people struggling with shit makes struggling with shit easier for you? Dive into my diary.
As you’ll discover somewhere around Day 6 or 7–writing doesn’t actually exist until a reader reads it. 😉
But now that I think about it–most of what I’ve written isn’t really appropriate for the eyes of internet strangers. So here’s the deal–y’all can look at the pictures. 😉
If you’re in one of those places, though, and your life will be utterly incomplete without the voyeuristic experience of ‘watching’ me pick at my scabs, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and ask for the password to the protected posts. I might give it to you.
Fun and games. 😉
Yours in the struggle,
RETREAT IN THE TIME OF THE PANDEMIC DIARY; Table of Days
Retreat in the Time of the Pandemic, Day 2: In which our heroine doesn’t matter (yeah, this one too)
You: Navel-gaze much?
Jane: Too much. It does seem to an essential part of the process though.