I have two work spaces, one in Paris, the other in the country. Between them there is no common object, for nothing is ever carried back and forth. Yet these sites are identical. Why? Because the arrangement of tools (paper, pens, desk, clocks, calendars) is the same. It is the structure of the space which constitutes its identity. The private phenomenon would suffice to shed some light on structuralism: the system prevails over the very being of objects.
I wonder about this kind of thing all the time. Does the place actually change the structure of writing? Does it really change? My friend Rick said something last weekend that touches on this—that I seem more level, calmer, and focused in the things I post when I’m home. I thought about this for awhile because there is something about having an opportunity to write and create at home. Place does make a difference in that your mentality shifts. That’s really at the core of why I’m going home: I’ll be able to do what I care about up there, because the place keeps me level. Whereas here I’m like a chicken with its head cut off. Too much stimuli.