I ordered it by mistake

I ordered it by mistake.

That’s a good beginning isn’t it? It quickly reminds me of the beginning of Charles Bukowski’s Post Office “It began as a mistake”, immediately followed by Sylvia Plath’s The Arrival of the Bee Box, not because she ordered the box by mistake, but because she doesn’t know what to do with it now that it has arrived.

“I ordered it by mistake” is a line, a beginner, which has been sitting in a journal waiting for a story for some considerable time. But whenever I go to write it, I think only of Bukowski and Plath. An unlikely couple, together they are a huge wall of impregnable excellence in writing, and I am immovable against it.

What I really ordered by mistake, was a moleskin journal. I did intend to buy a moleskin journal, what I did not intend was its size: roughly A6. That is not in the least interesting.

But the line itself gives such promise. I return to it often when I sit down to write. But it is a show-stopper in the most literal sense. When I try to write to it, for it, after it, with it, nothing else happens.

I ordered it by mistake.

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