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, June 11, 2012

Bad Writer - no cookie

This post is to guilt me. If you're not interested in self flagellation, just skip and we'll see you again tomorrow.

So Saturday was a waste, but I wanted to get some writing done on Sunday. That didn't really happen. I spent the day puttering and moaning. I was in a lot of pain. Anyway, between being up and down and taking care of cats, no writing got done. I also expected a little writing tonight. Unfortunately after I got home and took care of the cats, it was 8 by the time I started to make dinner. So no writing tonight either (and I just remembered that I need to find a letter before tomorrow morning). And I'm really tired.

So, no words down either (except on a 4x6 card that I took some notes on). Bad writer, no cookie.

But, I did get the scrivener file copied to dropbox, which I wanted to get done yesterday. So, small movements.

Mind dumped by at
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