For months we didn’t have the internet. Then, in December, facing daily updates from coffee-houses and library computers, I caved.

The silences that I rely on cannot be located when there is no silence in my head.

It is not impossible to write.

The internet does not do anything. I am the one who is there.

There is a maliciousness to convenience. In recent days I have discovered that evil and neglect come from inaction.

Ease is subtle and disrupting.

The devil is persuasive, passive, efficient.