Monday, October 8, 2007
Totally Frivolous Weekend
I did no writing for the last few days. None. Zero. Nada. Zilch. I didn't even think about writing, because I was visiting a friend at the shore, and sun and surf, I've discovered, completely drains the brain of any content whatsoever. One lies on the hot sand (it was 85 degrees -- in New Jersey. In October) and all thought, imagination, memory, and coherence bake away. One becomes a sort of evolutionary throwback, capable of eating and sleeping and minimal movement, but not of thought, and certainly not of art. Sun - good! Lunch -- good! Dolphins -- too bad not edible! It would be interesting to know if writers who live on a beach write less than writers who live inland. I, however, cannot undertake this study -- I'm home now but still have sand in my hair and nothing in my brain.