Site Meter
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Torture of Writing

Spent the day doing various chores and staying out of my wife's way. Also tried to get some writing done. All in all I think I got about 1000 words out, but it was split between several projects, and the words weren't all that good. Sigh.

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be better.

No comments: