Is it fair to transfer the burden and responsibility of a lack of creative and motivational inspiration to the fact that I don't have a desk? I don't think so, no. But seriously though, where am I supposed to sit down to really buckle down and break through some writer's block or chug through the demanding and time-consuming process of editing what little I already have written down? I guess on a bed or a couch or a kitchen table. My kitchen table is kind of messy. It has Christmas cookies and some bike parts and a box of Mike and Ikes on it and I think some other things. That's only clutter and can simply be moved or removed. If I had a desk, I would not have to worry about blowing cigarette smoke into my roommate's bedroom, because that's exactly what I'd do if I cleaned off the kitchen table and put my notebooks and computer there. I'd blow cigarette smoke right into his bedroom and he probably wouldn't say anything, but I don't think he'd appreciate it much either, I mean, he doesn't smoke and people who don't smoke cigarettes don't normally enjoy having cigarette smoke blown at them or into their living spaces. This image of a writer at a desk smoking cigarettes is kind of played out, huh? I imagine there should be a glass of mid-shelf scotch on that desk too. Fuck. I really wish I had a desk though.