When I get home, I have two desks in my office — one’s “analog” and one’s “digital.” The analog desk has nothing but markers, pens, pencils, paper, and newspaper. Nothing electronic is allowed on the desk — this is how I keep myself off Twitter, etc. This is where most of my work is born. The digital desk has my laptop, my monitor, my scanner, my Wacom tablet, and a MIDI keyboard controller for if I want to record any music. (Like a lot of writers, I’m a wannabe musician.) This is where I edit, publish, etc.
A Desk is where we work. Symbolic. Physical. Present. A second and third home. A Desk is a platform. A hearth. Roots are planted. It’s a place, a sanctuary, where hours upon hours pass.
Is there anyone out there?
Or am I all alone?
It wouldn’t make a difference
Still, I don’t wanna know
I thought it’d be over by now
But I got a while to go
I’d give away the ending
But you don’t wanna kn-
Could I interest you in everything all of the time?
A little bit of everything all of the time
Apathy's a tragedy, and boredom is a crime
Anything and everything all of the time
You say the ocean's rising like I give a shit
You say the whole world's ending, honey, it already did
You're not gonna slow it, Heaven knows you tried
Got it? Good, now get inside
Are you feeling nervous? Are you having fun?
It's almost over, it's just begun
Don't overthink this, look in my eye
Don't be scared, don't be shy
Come on in, the water's fine
If I wake up in a house that's full of smoke
I'll panic, so call me up and tell me a joke
When I'm fully irrelevant and totally broken, damn it
Call me up and tell me a joke
Oh, shit
You're really joking at a time like this?