The self imposed exile thats been jotted upon my usual place of work impliments a very curious turn of events for me and my fingers.
Usually by this time Im busy pressing the buttons on my keyboard to form legoble sentences that inspire thought and are designed by employing the strength of all my neural networks at once.
Today though im in the zone and my fingers are ready. I don’t have my computer but I still have a keyboard, its not exactly ideal but it does the job pretty well. However I sit here on the precipce of creation, a nanosecond away from achieving an idea that would change the world, like most writers.
But theres an inhibitor to my process, this pane of glass I clutch in my hands becomes a burden too heavy for my fingers to support, my thumbs usually rest on the spacebar and shift keys. Today they’re in the driver’s seat, taking this text to the destination it deserves to be in.
Today I write and today I question, today I ask myself If it’s me who’s the creative ot is it the machine that makes me smart. Is it all me or is it a fancy keyboard? Are my thoughts, my thjmbs and this text editor that wordpress desperately needs to overhaul enough for me to make something good enough to inspire thought?
Today I type with my thumbs, postponing the efficacy of efficiency in favor of a lighter bag.