Heart-Broken

Just pausing, while I read Joe Hill's Heart-Shaped Box, to try and put something thoughful into writing about this strange book.

When I was a university student - just a few months ago - it was easier taking that first brazen step and translating a single, or jumble of thoughts from my mind into words on the page. Today, I miss the attention of the teacher and classroom - the crowds of diverse people and opinions - where someone paid attention to what I had to say or write about a poem, novel, short story, or theory even if they didn't share my perspective, opinion or bias. I want to write something great and inspired about the books I read, like Heart-Shaped Box, but in the end I come home to my rented room after work to read as escape from the "demonic, disorderly, and depressing" vexations of making a living, to recover from being run downhill every day. I realize University was my Eden: I can't go back, I can only remember.

I want to write something about Heart-Shaped Box but I can't seem to pull my thoughts together without a literary audience.