Okay, I was feeling a bit inspired and was gonna come home and write. Then I get here. No good. Absolutely no good. This is not a writing space right now. I don’t know if it ever will be. The I-House room in Chicago, on the other hand, was perfect.
The space you are in has a massive effect on your ability to know (and to say) what you mean. This is not an “honest” space in any sense of the word, it is a constructed space. It reflects little about me or anything I know or think, and doesn’t support my being (literally—there is no place in the room in which I am comfortable).
On top of that, I had a big, hairy business email to respond to. Dammit, now I am all uninspired after typing that lengthy reply. Fuckfuckfuck, I hate that.