I suppose in the greater scheme of things this matters not so much, but for my immediate future both geographically and existentially... these are very different paths that diverge quite quickly in the forest of the near future.
I know, I know; what the hell are you talking about?
I have said often that I can write from anywhere on the road or not. The laptop travels better than I do, but my most recent story/book is actually set on the road of my current travels. Chapters and scenes are literally unfolding as I move about the country. Now, however, I have another possibility that would anchor me in Berkeley for some unforeseen chunk of time. While that conflicts with my travelogue muse, I can indeed write anywhere and as Amy has mentioned in her most recent brain dump blog, the Matusow screenplay is now back on the radar and perhaps even on final approach.
So I find myself at the fork in the road, where I have not been in a very long time, I wonder why there isn't a bench here for the weary traveler to rest and contemplate which path to tread next. And why does this big black cat keep walking on my keyboard? I did mention divination, didn't I.
[To avoid the google search that I have tweaked with my overmetaphorizing, here is the quote:
photo credit: cashill.com