February 18, 2010
I had a meeting the other day with a woman who wants me to help her write a book. I've co-written and ghost-written before. But not for awhile. Anyway, when she walked into my office, she said, "Wow. Looks like an altar."
Everywhere I've ever lived—my office has ended up like this. Even when I've wanted to have a stark, Quaker-esque office, I've ended up with postcards from floor to ceiling, with jewelry and masks and matchbooks taped to the walls. The longer I stay in one place, the more out-of-hand the walls become.
An altar. Hmmm. I sort of like that. I guess I'm praying to the god of postcards and scotch tape. And Elvis.