Writing Desk

No room to write…

Taken from above, to hide the depth of the piles on the floor…


  1. Matthew Lickona says

    Well, now you have an excuse. And yet you're blogging…

  2. Rufus,

    You have no room because instead of the important things taking up space on your desk – empty whisky bottles, shot glasses turned over which trapped flies and moths in them, overfilled ashtrays which double as pencil/pen holders, paperclip necklaces suspended by the drawer knobs, two or three plastic army men besieging a requisite copy of Leaves of Grass with half the pages torn out (they'd been used as blotting paper) and an equally requisite well-thumbed back-issue of the National Enquirer; instead of these things, I say, you have it filled with these, these…books and papers, all of them no doubt full of profound and important things and all of it no doubt purposed to actually GETTING WORK DONE, but none of it nearly as essential as the catalogue I mentioned above.

    See what you can do about that, huh?


  3. Do I spy with my little eye Northern Exposure?

  4. Rufus McCain says

    That's right, I can't even sit down because of the Northern Exposure.

    JOB: post a picture please!

  5. Matthew Lickona says

    Rufus: See also.

  6. Rufus McCain says

    Thanks for the link, Matthew. I remember that, and had it in the back of my mind when I posted this. Maybe we should have a "Most Astonishingly Chaotical Writing Space" contest. A copy of HoW to the winner.

  7. Matthew Lickona says


  8. Rufus McCain says

    Does "Done" mean you're going to create and promote such a contest? And which of you posted the second pic? I spy a bagful of books, with Waugh on top.

  9. Matthew Lickona says

    Done as in I've put up my entry. That's my workspace.

  10. Rufus McCain says

    The contest is not open to employees of Korrektiv or their immediate family members. But thanks for posting the picture. Did you get the copy of HoW I sent you?

  11. Matthew Lickona says

    ONE IS NEVER ENOUGH. Yeah, I got it.

  12. Southern Expat says

    All these writing rooms, with their bookshelves and their fine Corinthian leather. I can't take it – can't hack it, here in the suburbs. My bookshelves are particle board and my carpet is Realtor Taupe. This either exacerbates or explains my lack of existentialism.

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