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

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Somewhat Sunny Sunday

After much procrastination, thought, and self flagellation (not to mention procrastination) I've rewritten the opener to Seven-Year Itch or Winter Occupant and am hammering out some of the scenes. About a eight hundred words into the (crappy first draft of the) story.

Things accomplished this weekend: Sleep (much needed, these 58+ hour work weeks have got to end), t-shirt design (front, sleeve, and back), sleep, research for a new logo (thought an idea had been used, but I can't find it - BTW, if you want to see just how glorious ID design can be, check this out., just damn friggin' amazing work), spent time with my wife, sleep, cleaned up a little, sleep, adjust attitude, get ready for the doctor's appointment tomorrow, and did I mention sleep?

Things not accomplished: Write edits to stories I was supposed to critique last week (I have my handwritten notes, I need to type them in and email), get back to novel, finish logo design researched above, clean bathrooms, organize garage stuff, get to the store, etc.

It's sunny outside, and I should have charged around like a mad man, tromping the trout-lillies and looking up into the trees are the newly budded leaves. The robins are singing, the bluejays as well. At the end of this week it's supposed to snow, just swell. (Oh no, I'm in Dr. Suess rhyming land!)

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