I rarely allow for intense external stimulation while in the throes of writing. The act demands focus, and is, for me, the culmination or the consequence of sifting through different forms of matter that have entered my world sensorially during the process of my every day. And so, when I write, I need extreme solitude. I need to be alone. Of course, in dire circumstances where privacy is not possible, I adapt, especially if the urgency to write has enunciated itself strongly enough, if I feel like the writing is spilling forth from my consciousness and needs to be contained.

I should make a distinction here between various forms of writing. On the one hand, there is immense note-taking and journaling that is integral to my process. I record the moments of contact, when my attention falls upon an object and a feeling ensues. I would refer to all of this as a documentation process. As a memoirist, empowered and conscious living constitutes my fieldwork. Everything is indeed copy, and the everything includes all sensuous and intangible matter that manifests across metabolic and poetic registers. One has to practise being consistently alert, even while complacent.