A book in my library, 642 things to write about by the San Francisco Writers Grotto, is one of the most provocative and evocative manuals I’ve ever encountered. There are quite a few prompts that I will never use, either because I don’t think that I want to approach that subject or because it may ultimately become a waste of my time.
I’m intrigued by the fact that I find myself beginning at the first page of the book each time that I look at it, either to see what I’ve already selected or in the event that something I previously rejected now looks attractive as a subject for this medium.
The one that I like today is titled, “What your desk thinks about at night.” It almost goes without saying that I have never attached human characteristics or abilities to my desk. This can also be said about all of the other non-living entities in my life, all of which are lacking the brain necessary to think at night or at any other time.
With all of that preface, I will adopt the persona of the desk and see where it goes.
Well, the sun is coming up to my right so I guess that She will be approaching me within the next hour or so. Because I don’t know one day from another, I can’t determine if She will be here for a long time or a short time. It really doesn’t matter at all. I have four strong legs and a sturdy surface that will define me, regardless of the time she spends here.
I’m not quite sure about all of the things that I am forced to support all day, every day. There is one plant, a cell phone, a pencil and pen container, a fan, a box of tissues and a picture frame that changes its face every few seconds. There is also a toy truck and two donkeys, as well as a lamp, a glass container with binder clips and a basket that contains things that She looks at now and then.
My scenery doesn’t change much. If She’s here, She’s sitting at the front of me, looking out the window behind me. If She’s not here, my front faces a window anyway, with the back window looking at the yard. If I could be happy, I guess that I would be happy that She is here more than She is in most other places, except for the bed and the recliner. I’m glad to be a critical part of Her office because I know that I help Her write books and other things. It’s good to be a desk. Shalom.