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

Monday, August 21, 2006

Pardon me, I hath a culd...

I have a summer cold. Those most truly suck. I’ve been lazy with writing since I went on vacation. Every time I get a head of steam up somebody steals the tracks away. Been cleaning, fiddling with paperwork, and yard work. Have I explained that yard work for me can mean mowing and trimming or using chainsaws and equipment that has their work rating in tonnage? It’s been the second kind, being too damn wet to mow.

Last week at work was “absolutely no overtime.” So I only worked 6 hours of OT. For the foreseeable future I’m to have Wednesdays off. We’ll see how long that lasts.

Mostly through the polish for “War Stories.” It’s pretty much what I thought it would be; short red marks instead of making the manuscript look like I used it as bandages for gaping and sucking wounds. Yes, I like using a RED pen for markup. If you have to ask I can only say, “Because it’s damn easier to see.” Make marks on my manuscript with pencil and I don’t think you’re serious about what you want to say. Make marks in blue and especially black pen and I may miss them. Use green if you like, purple if you must, but I will supply red pens to anybody who wants to proof my manuscripts, just ask.

Ideas have been coming for new and in progress stories, thank the Muse. I wish I had more time. Some disjointed ideas (more Storybones to come, soon), some things that are stories, some that I have no idea if they’re stories or not, some I can’t work into stories (at least not yet).

War Stories is definitely a cold fish and it’s starting to stink up the place, time to get it off into the mail.

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