Today was cold and grey and unspringlike; I didn't go out, I made myself dinner, I read a couple of books and a couple of scripts and worked on nothing except this story which I am still trying not to break. I don't seem to have the brain to work on anything else. I remember being able to multitask around fiction, but I suspect that was when I did not go years between completing stories. Both of the cats have been affectionate and inconvenient. I am telling myself it is not bad to have days like this.
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Active Entries
- 1: Reading your mind is like foreign TV
- 2: When you turn a solemn promise to a blatant lie
- 3: If one year's back on my shoulder
- 4: Me, I'm a rotten audience before I've had my coffee
- 5: I'm not on my own
- 6: You know what comes right after the dark
- 7: I wish I grew Annapolis apples up above Fundy Bay
- 8: Kicking a peach pit till I worry it's blue
- 9: I liked you better when you weren't cool
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