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There is no point to write if your writing has no point. I have no point, and yet I am still letting the hapless words flood the page, sliding onto the paper like some rabid monk. And, wait, I think I stole that off somewhere. Which is very likely, considering the time I spend getting westernized. Westernized, because Americanized sounds too provincial, and nobody wants to be provincial. And it’s also because I am Canadian. Somehow the adjective ‘Canadian’ lends a pastoral and idyllic, but also, inevitably, mockingly subordinate meaning to any word or phrase it precedes.
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