I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Killed in the Hills

Last night I didn’t get any editing done. None. It was another late night at work, talked with contractors about site prep for a storage-building and a few other projects, ate dinner and then the world came to an end with a storm. The laptop had a low battery charge and given the quality of electrical service, I wasn’t going to trust to plugging in. So either tonight is going to be a killer edit-session, or I’m going to miss deadline. My guess is the later. Secondary goal is to send in manuscript very early for next quarter, finishing to mail on July 8th.
Mind dumped by at

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