The Cost of Living

finishing line requires the writing to become more interesting than everyday life, and a log fire, like everyday life, is never boring.
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In that case, I wasn’t winterized after all. I identified with Camus, who declared he had an invincible summer inside him, even in winter.
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This had been my theme in Things I Don’t Want to Know, in which I speculated that the things we don’t want to know are the things that are known to us anyway, but we do not wish to look at them too closely. Freud described this wish to unknow what we know as motivated forgetting.
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All writing is about looking and listening and paying attention to the world.
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Life is only worth living because we hope it will get better and we’ll all get home safely.
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And then I read that he wrote Hamlet in the year his father died. The line that means the most to me in the entire play is Hamlet’s reply when asked what it is he is reading. Words, words, words. I think he is trying to say that he is inconsolable. Words can cover up everything that matters.
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Marguerite Duras suggested in a reverie that came to her from the calm of her final house, a home she had made to please herself, that ‘writing comes like the wind’. It’s naked, it’s made of ink, it’s the thing written, and it passes like nothing else passes in life, nothing more, except life itself. The writing you are reading now is made from the cost of living and it is made with digital ink.