White Space

It's happening again. Writer's block. As I've said before, I think blocks of this kind are born out of a lack of will. Where there's a will, there's a way. But I'm not feeling that sentiment tonight. I do want to write but nothing's coming. Maybe the problem is that I've been stockpiling ideas for the past few weeks now? Maybe I want to hold onto them because I fear nothing else will come after? I guess that's my insecurity showing. Mostly I think I just don't want to get into any of it. I mean, I know I don't. It takes time, it takes thought, it takes effort. I never know where it's gonna end but I always have a good idea of how large it will be and the things I've been saving are pretty huge... in my mind, at least.

Whenever I used to feel this way I'd go to the bathroom. Not literally... well, yes literally... I just mean I wouldn't use the bathroom. Who was it? Archimedes, that's it. He had the right idea all along. It's the bathroom, the restroom, it's those places where the best ideas spring. It's always been a tried and true method for conjuring up inspiration. In high school, whenever I had an essay to write it was always in the bathroom that I'd come up with my theses, openers and closers... those things that structured the whole. I don't know exactly what it was about that space. Was it the color of the walls and tile? I think it was the lack of sound and the echo. It was also the nature of the space; private. It was a sort of void. I keep talking of the past 'cause I don't use the trick all that much... or I try not to anyway. Ever since I pinpointed the magic of that space I wanted to draw it out into the open, because I feel that everything is a state of mind and so I didn't need the space... it's not about the physical space. The physical space is a... marker. Or maybe it's more of a rune, a sort of conduit. It merely facilitates that journey to the other. All of it was about privacy, silence and vacancy. It's an easy thing to achieve once you know it's what you want... you can even get there in a noisy, crowded space.

Still I like bathrooms, I still use them in that way. It just happens. It's intrinsic to that space. You can't help but think in there. I've played around with the idea of what it must be like to live in a space completely modeled after a bathroom. White tiles and huge, empty spaces. No appliances. But lots of plumbing. I'm convinced water is apart of the magic as well. I love the sound of running water. It's an intriguing idea because it's so foreign. I think... I'm always living in that space in my head. I'm always thinking, I'm always in that private space. So I wonder what it must be like to always be in that space, physically. To be in that space both physically and mentally, all the time. Would someone go mad there? What would come of it? What would one create in that crucible? I don't know, but I like thinking about it.


DS333, managing.