Life & Wisdom Quote by Sherman Alexie

A throwaway joke with a small shiver inside it: Alexie frames poetry not as a lofty calling but as a coping mechanism, an alternative to compulsion. The line lands because it yanks the “writer’s life” myth out of the clouds and plants it in the sink, under fluorescent light, with raw knuckles. It’s funny first - the absurd image of someone perpetually scrubbing - then quietly diagnostic. Creativity becomes harm reduction.

The specific intent is to demystify art by linking it to anxiety. Alexie suggests that the energy driving poems isn’t purely inspiration; it’s pressure that needs somewhere to go. Washing hands is classic ritual behavior: a gesture that promises cleanliness, control, absolution. Writing, in this framing, is a different ritual - one that metabolizes fear into form. The subtext is that the mind will pick its loop. If it can’t make meaning, it will make routines.

Context matters because Alexie’s work is steeped in survival humor, the kind shaped by poverty, addiction’s shadow, and the daily psychic noise of being Native in America. In that landscape, “washing my hands” reads less like quirky neurosis and more like a metaphor for trying to scrub off what won’t come off: history, shame, stereotypes, grief. The line also carries a sly ethic: art isn’t self-indulgence; it’s how some people stay functional. Alexie’s wit keeps it from sounding therapeutic or sanctimonious. He makes the bargain plain: poems aren’t purity. They’re what happens when you choose a page over a compulsion.