Not all the time, and not for everything. But for one particular reason, I really do like writing on the computer.
I can easily back it up. Sometimes I wish I had everything backed-up.
In 2005, I had a show about halfway written and figured out in my notebooks (I frequently carry several of different sizes. Ready for anything.) During BlueForms’ triumphant, 100-degrees on-stage, festival closing performance of A/ThePostModernLoveStory (yes, one word) in Cincinnati, our car was broken into and my bag was stolen.
It was a beautiful Ogio bag, blue and black, and I’ve never found one I like even half as much. Anyway …
The contents of the bag included a silver iPod-mini packed with nothing but hip-hop, several books by the likes of Margaret Atwood and Fernando Pessoa, and 3 notebooks containing many months worth of writing.
I was upset about the broken window, and the iPod, and the bag, of course. But I was really upset about the writing. I’ll never know what was in there, what was good or bad, what new ideas I had that I’ll never recapture. It’s not exactly that I miss the lost sentences and all that scratching, but I do wonder.