LOCK ME UP!!! NOWWWWWWWWWWWW

There’s this poem called Kubla Khan. Coleridge, the guy who wrote it, got drugged and penned the most wonderful masterpeice ever, until halfway through when he is disturbed by the FedEX guys or something…. He comes back to complete the line but doesn’t get the groove.

I know a lot of writers feel this way. I have fallen prey innumerable times. It isn’t just for the literary types with iron thoughts that diffuse at the slightest- I feel it even over a crossword. And I attribute it to my superior thinking capabilities. If you can boast of a thought process, that doesn’t waver even when a dynamite goes off under you, its time for professional help. Manufacturing defect in either your head or your under!

In which aspect, I find it cruel to be made to work in an office- where people walk by, talk, distract… mails come and go… DTD phones that keep ringing… Lunch hours… Let me get serious- I don’t get an award winning idea too often. And every time I DO get one, the idea of letting it vaporize with the sound of that coffee vending machine is not the least bit appeasing!

Coincidentally, it turns out that my line of work is such I CAN NOT work from home. And I keep screaming I’m ANTI SOCIAL. They ought to lock me away in safe houses- with some peace and quiet.