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

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Rainy Saturday Working

Was planning on writing, staring at the screen until my brain cells either screamed in death-throws or cranked out some wordage. But I ended up doing freelance work after checking email. While it was for only a little money (I'm a sucker for start-ups and females owned businesses, it's my weakness), it was probably for more than what I would make for the daily word count. Hopefully tomorrow (or later tonight) will see some word output.

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