You'll find me in the desert under the solstice moon with me, myself, and I.

[jackshoegazer]

My work schedule is an odd, bi-weekly alternating fiasco wherein I work four shifts a week, but never work more than three nights consecutive.  I stay at Jacquelyn's place while I'm working, rather than commute back and forth to Watertown.

However, this week there was a mighty bad snowstorm on my day off, so I've been in Madison for almost a solid week.  Reflecting upon this and my LJ posting, I pondered the following while walking in the cold pre-dawn air this morning.

I don't write as much when I'm here.  I only write now because Jacquelyn is still sleeping and I have the apartment to myself, quiet, except for scurrying cats and the hiss and pings of the old radiator heating system.  Throughout the normal time I'm here, I can barely summon the concentration to reply to my comments, let alone write posts or anything else.

I've discovered why writer's run off in solitude to work.  Even writing something as simple as a letter of inquiry for a job, composing my University of Wisconsin application essay, I needed solitude.  When John and I wrote the Book, we were basically sequestered in our apartment for two months with minimal interruptions.  We wrote from after breakfast until after dinner with minimal breaks.

Don't assume I don't enjoy my time with Jacquelyn, far from, I love it, however, I find that it's not just here, but in general.  At my home in Watertown, I can't work when my roommate is around.  It's like I can't be myself when others are around, even if they are quiet, it's as if their mere consciousness affects my concentration, like electromagnetic energy altering my brainwaves.

Perhaps this links together with the idea of hunting, the lone trek into the woods, the den, the garage, the workshop; many initiation rituals place the neophyte alone for three days.  It is true that like chemistry, we are all affected my different people, so that we are different people depending on who we are with.  So this begs the question, are we only truly ourselves when we are isolated?  And therefore our only true work is birthed from that time that we are alone.

Are we hermits first and friends, siblings, parents and lovers second?  Or is it just me?

.

Comments

[maeghanne.livejournal.com]

It is not just you!

[choogy.livejournal.com]

i don't know if this answers the question but i feel more "myself" when i'm with jamie and justin. the hermit side of me gets expressed through writing but i'd like to think there is a balance between the internal and external. or at least, maybe there should be!

[antarcticlust.livejournal.com]

I think the reason you don't write here is because you usually don't have time; often, you have just enough to wake up, dress, eat, and go to work, come home, and sleep. You do those things at home, too, but with a good chunk of time on either end. You don't write at work, when you're alone for a long period of time. You could compose lj posts in Word and then paste them in later. In fact, the reason I started sending you to work with my computer was not so you could watch movies, but so you could write, remember?

[jenmarya.livejournal.com]

desultory thoughts:

It's hard to create in someone else's space. Once it is your joint place, it might flow like Niagara.

Someone once told me that collaborating was like pissing while someone else held your dick... While I know you aren't collaborating, maybe the freshness of being in the same place together just can't wear off enough for you to feel that solo creativity vibe.

But yeah, personally I find it easier to create when isolated because I lose track of time and forget things like eating, which is hard to do when other people are around. Maybe establishing a few weird rules like, "pretend Jeremy is invisible when he's in the groove" might help. Or not.

[(Anonymous)]

The word hermit reminds me of that little guy with the big glasses on the Simpsons. HAHA!
Speaking of hermits, I am skipping class right now so I can do my homework. I was thinking its too quiet to do it. Then I remembered that Cadbury Eggs were out so I bought some. Then I got some coffee. Then I called someone. Then I realized I got nothing done.
What was I talking about again?
Oh yeah, the simpsons.
You see? I distract myself. I think other people actually focus me.
Hmmm Cadbury Eggs

[tekelili.livejournal.com]

It isn't just you. I'm an artist, not a writer, but affected in the same way by the simple consciousness of others, and feel the need to be alone in the formative stages of any artwork. Else, I feel like there's outside interference blocking my channel to the muse, heh.