The Importance of Getting Out
I decided to join you today not from the peaceful serenity of the Brainroot national headquarters, nor the nourishing mayhem of my favorite coffee shop, rather, I decided to write this weekly update from deep in the Kansan tundra.
As I wandered off the beaten path, searching for the perfect writing location, I was slowly overwhelmed by majesty of the land. It was cold and barren (as only the prairie can be). I was surrounded by a symphony of noises: the bass from a passing freight train, the melody provided by a duet of bubbling creek and howling wind, and the treble part from the rattling of dead branches and brambles.
Caucasian males writers have often journeyed for the wilderness for inspiration. It gives us an excuse to write flowing, elegant prose about wind and creeks and other boring things. It also makes us feel like we’re “getting in touch with our creative energy.” (Because hallucinogens will only take you so far. ) (And they are expensive.) (And need to be purchased from seedy people with foreign names.) (Or at least hip-hop names.) (I digress.)
I journeyed to the wilderness for a simpler reason. I had lost my sunglasses. Or at least one pair of sunglasses.
Those who have known me for awhile know that I am close to my sunglasses. In fact, I don’ think my first girlfriend ever saw me without them. (She is now getting married.) ( To someone else.) (I digress). The following is a picture of where I lost this particular pair:
I had been shimmying across the creek on the aforementioned wire (another story) when the sunglasses fell from my pocket. I found it much more difficult to retrieve them than I had anticipated, and got several appendages wet:
Finally, however, I retrieved the lost pair. Here I am at base camp shortly afterwards:
After this ordeal I proceeded to look for a suitable writing spot. I though it prudent to document my equipment so that other aspiring writers would know what is essential for their own wilderness experience. They are as follows:
Finally, I arrived at a suitable location and unpacked my writing gear. A swig from the flask, a deft lighting of the pipe, and I was ready to go. I unfolded my laptop and pushed power. It was dead.
45 minutes later I was back at my car. 30 minutes later I was at a coffee shop and began writing this post. My shoes are soggy, I smell like creek, and I look like I’m homeless.
On second thought, screw the wilderness.
But what about Brainroot?
Oh yeah. The update.
Well, we’re still going. Chris is working on a new website and I’m finishing up a few editing projects while I continue to squeeze in a few minutes here and there to work on the script. The office is great an already feels like home. Now we just need clients. Any one willing to work on commission?