What I want instead is to bring back the idea of writing as something that has a muscularity and a will to bring about a different world. And if we are to do that, we need to understand it as both work and labor, and not pretend that to ask for payment is to be ungrateful about our place as writers.
For those who live in cities where cabs and public transportation are plentiful and efficient and like to go on about the evils of ride-sharing: Stuff it. I get all the issues, but if I’d been on a hour and a half long el ride (perfectly normal in Chicago, where the public transportation system is carefully designed to keep white people safe from everyone else who has to take circuitious routes to get anywhere), I don’t think I would have survived the massive pain for that long without killing myself or screaming, a lot.
Unless you’re an actual — and Western-based — doctor, please don’t write to me to ask what I have and to diagnose my conditions without seeing me, or to tell me which magical Eastern plant or some hour-long cooking regimen and meditation really worked for you; I’m really not interested (using a Neti pot is what gave me an ear infection that lasted for nearly two years, so you’ll understand my irritation with “natural” remedies).
