In an interview in a Norwegian literature program Joyce Carol Oates says that she covers up her laziness with a great memory. How she, one of the most productive writers around, can claim to be lazy is beyond me. I sit in my sofa and wounder what I can cover up my laziness AND poor memory with.
Today was going to be a day of writing, I was gonna let the literature current take me into the unknown. Turns out the literature didn’t want to go anywhere. It stayed in the sofa, at least Chelsea won against Man Utd. There were no words, nothing to be found, nothing came out. But you are writing this, you might think.
But its not poetry or fiction, is it?