I have been thinking about Shakespeare’s writing, "To be or not to be," in light of my writing. Each new piece of writing starts in a state of nothingness, in the grace of not being or "not to be." It takes shape through my thought, the language of words, the beauty of sounds and the influence of meanings and logic. Slowly, my writing becomes. The decision of to be or not to be is made. Nothing is written into something. When I was twenty-one years old, I was terrified of dying for six weeks. Death followed me everywhere. Rather than keep my fears to myself, I openly asked friends , family members, acquaintances, even strangers what they thought about their own death. In retrospect, I’m surprised people were so open and tolerant sharing their thoughts. I eventually woke up one day and realized my fear was gone. I reasoned that since I didn't exist before I was born, and had no recollection of being in pain, the same would probably hold true after death....
I am replacing my desk, which is currently a black table top, with four ugly silver coloured legs. I would like buy a desk with form, beauty, function at a reasonable price. In visits to stores all I could seem to find were high priced monstrosities needing their own rooms. They belonged in dank castles, attended over by brooding mad kings or queens. Every desk was 99% factory made, without the light of a human touch in the creation of its design. I was getting cold. I found one prefabricated beauty that lit my heart up and plunged it into darkness at the price. It was a cool white, made of gleaming white plastic, with a smooth pull out drawer, elegant legs and a concealed flip top lid for my laptop. It was even more posh, cool and somehow ceramic to the touch when I greeted it in person. The ice beauty was being offered at an hostage price reduction of $1498.oo… I distinctly remember when Superstore opened in Edmonton....