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: To the green field by the sea
- 2: Make me a wreck as I come back and spare me as I'm going
- 3: Did you see the closing window? Did you hear the slamming door?
- 4: Keeping time on the kingfisher's climb
- 5: Because brick-braided alleys make steep, sleeping valleys seem level and clear
- 6: Don't look round, but I think we're taking off
- 7: Sing the praise of Alexander, he's no use to me
- 8: The hedges and fields are clothed all around with several sorts of green
- 9: Chinatown, London Underground, you know it all sounds good to me
- 10: Take us roaming in the gloaming, your Ross rifle by your side
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