My writing is deeply personal. I think of it as documentation of experience. Well, really I tend not to directly report from the front. It’s more of an Onion satire that somehow captures truth left out of straight stories. I think of it as coming at things from a “sideways angle.”
So honestly, this isn’t about me. It’s not just my way. Everyone speaks indirectly. Telling stories about friends to illustrate points about their own failings without ever admitting that’s what they are on about.
It’s annoying sometimes. Mostly it’s awkward and confusing. Poets like to emphasize the beauty, charm and grace. Storytellers too, though order and structure are their main game. Since I am performing as an essayist at the moment, I will say that my colleagues and I are intent on conveying all of these things but with minimal personality, or rather a detachment from personality that lends an artificial air of credence to our words.
The raw intellect can be a healthy snack. Of course, as in the case of rare seasonings such as saffron, it can be quite expensive. That it’s dry goes without saying. Preservation for the sake of posterity; one does wonder who exactly one is preserving it for?
Of course life is long enough in most cases, to make dehydration a quite practical concern. Don’t dry out, for example: you’ll die. But more commonly it’s nice to have all sorts of things stored in the pantry or in a kitchen cupboard. Things you don’t need every day but rather occasionally, to assist in baking bread for a potluck or making savory soup when company calls. And desserts too are all the more special when sweetened in part by the intervention of time.