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, August 15, 2010

Run, rabbit run. Dig that hole, forget the sun.

Somewhat wasted day. Got maybe 300 words out on the Steampunk Cthulhu. I know the basic story, but I don't know exactly how to tell it without just doing expository. Granted, much of HP's work was also exposition with some badly formed dialog sprinkled in, like shattered candy glass on a squamous ice cream sundae.

And this is my last free weekend until classes start up. Next weekend includes the company picnic at which I'm the "photographer." And then on Sunday is setting up the speaker system for the village parade. And, oh yes, I got roped into being the announcer for the parade. Lucky damn me. The next weekend is Context, which I haven't even looked at the website to start thinking about exactly who will be there and where I'll be going. If there is a bar in the hotel, I'm sure I'll be there for some of the time.

Oh yeah, next week is also the writers group meeting.

Busy. Busy. Busy.

And, oh yeah, lots of things coming up due in the next few weeks at work.

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