Riposte To Academia
It was Monday afternoon and Jack had already done every thing he needed to for the week ahead. Bored and alone in his flat and having already devoured his sweet ice cream treat from that morning's shopping trip he had nothing to look forward to besides the usual invariants of getting stoned and contemplation. Whether it be watching yet another DVD or writing another story or poem he was as yet unsure. He thought it may help to write if he sat down at his desk and rolled a joint whilst the laptop before him crackled in to action. It was an old machine that had seen better days and now had the occasional habit of either shutting down for no obvious reason or for the keys to jam so hard Mick Tyson would have had a tough job typing. With the joint now rolled he opened a new Word document. He sat there, staring at the empty screen for an age, letting the joint intoxicate his brain, hoping it would take him some where suitable for a story to be staged. His poor stoned brain couldn't develop any kind of idea so he simply moved back over to his sofa, sat down and picked up a book. It was too nice a day outside to want to pull the curtains so he decided to spend a few hours reading; that never failed to stimulate the creative juices currently lying dormant in his subconscious mind. He then remembered some thing an old university professor had once told him "Write about what you know but never write about the writing."
10 October 2013