I am not done with Maggie Nelson yet. Bluets is one of my favorite books of all time. Therefore, I am choosing her as Poet of the Week again.
Here she is:
185. Perhaps this is why writing all day, even when the work feels arduous, never feels to me like "a hard day's work." Often it feels more like balancing two sides of an equation--occasionally quite satisfying, but essentially a hard and passing rain. It, too, kills the time.
---from Bluets by Maggie Nelson
I know what she is talking about here. Every once in a while, I spend an entire day working on a piece of writing. An essay or poem or short story. It's work. Sometimes hard work. But, to me, it never feels like my other jobs. I can spend three hours teaching a night class, and I'm exhausted. Eight hours at the medical office can seem like the month of January in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Long and dark and tiring.
Writing, however, makes my mind and body hum. It kills time, yes. But, to me, it's also like spending a day eating chocolate cake or reading Bluets.
It fills Saint Marty up.
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