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

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Say goodnight Gracie

After several days of nagging myself, and misremembering when the writing group was meeting, I got through another edit/rewrite of A History of Lighting. I really need a new title for that. Anyway. We're at 4024 words, and I forget where I started, but it's 20 words less than the last saved file. I also went on a "was" killing spree. At least twenty of the little buggers fell to the editing scythe. The only thing I did count was that there are only four left. And I may get those next time (bwahaha!).

As you can see, I'm tired and punchy. Also had a freelance quick gig I didn't expect show up tonight (done and out). So it's time to go to bed.

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