Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum (Baltimore, Maryland).
I’m finally getting my new writing studio put together. As most of you know, our recent (okay, it was two+ months ago) move was ridiculous and awful. Unpacking things in my studio was pretty much at the bottom of the list. Better late than never, though. Here’s a partial view of the area above my desk.
Inspo
“If there is a magic in story writing, and I am convinced there is, no one has ever been able to reduce it to a recipe that can be passed from one person to another.”–John Steinbeck
John Steinbeck (November 1939)
Thanks for the recommendation, Gigi from Rethinking Life!
Ascending Peculiarity (Also Pictured: My cactus Emily)
Today’s tea: PG tips (not shown)
Gellhorn
Today’s cuppa: Earl Grey.
Yesterday’s Google Doodle was in honor of Sylvia Plath’s 87th birthday. The gorgeous art is by Sophie Diao.
Sylvia Plath Google Doodle. Art by Sophie Diao.
It’s drizzling. Cool. A haze of rain. Grey. Nonstop. A wall of grey.
Haven’t stepped foot outside since the last sunset. Don’t plan on breaking this chain. Not today. Today my will is adamantine. Hard as a scimitar. Laziness, my chosen luxury.
Furthermore…
Someone else brought a package in, retrieved the mail. All junk, anyway. Glad I didn’t waste those fifteen seconds. Time spent under a new duvet is precious, irretrievable. Pushing it off is forsaking a cloud in favor of the gutter.
Furthermore…
Tea doesn’t steep through telekinesis. Mugs aren’t self-sugaring. Spoons do not come with ‘automatic stirring’ buttons.
Furthermore…
Books exist to be read. Aged pages feel good when rubbed between fingers, the scent produced intoxicating.
It’s drizzling. Cool. A haze of rain. Grey. Nonstop. A wall of grey.
***
Rain on the River by George Bellows (1908). Collection: Rhode Island School of Design Museum. Public Domain.
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 