Waking up from a dream fragment, this morning:
I was in the book bindery (University of Minnesota Press, where I worked 1987~1989), making a book. I was physically making the book. Stitching the spine, applying the glue and binding cloth, hammering out the curves of the hardcover “fit.” Then I gave the book to someone – a coworker. It wasn’t at the hagwon – it was some moribund office career.
I asked the guy later, “What do you think of my book?”
He stared at me with fish-eyes, saying: “Well, it seems basically like one of your basic 400 page fiction novel things.”
So I ask, “Did you read it?”
He shrugs and says, “No.”
Obviously, I’m struggling with anxieties with respect to my writing.
hi – I used to work with you at the book bindery at the U. I actually was reading your blog yesterday ,found it because I was thinking about the book bindery and wondered what some of my former co-workers were doing. Thought that you would have had many adventures – and I was right. Glad that you are settled in where you are. Maybe you gave the book to the wrong person in your dream?