Big Sur & Snake Oil
Sometimes it feels like life is in service to my writing, giving me constant material to work with. I’ve identified with being a writer since I was in elementary school, long before I could say it out loud, to others. In high school, I dreamed of graduating and setting out into the world to let life happen to me so I could write about it. I wasn’t very specific, and so, life obliged in so many ways, up, down and all around. Eventually, I realized that I needed to sit in the directors chair atleast some of the time or else I would continue feeling like one of those fan fueled fabric wind dancer thingamabobs, just blowing wherever with no sense of rhythm or control.
