Ketchup
Snow today, readying for the weather. Up early with the spouse to help build plow teams. Coffee and raisin toast, litany of nightly carnage on the morning news. Write a book, he says. This thingamajiggy is only for people who write books. Instead I write a moany email to to a friend. All about my ...
pattern & color
words are flummoxing, persistent, legion. poised at the digital nexus of blogs & email & facebook & twitter, I’m foundering a bit in a soup of verbosity. in lieu of words, I’m currently losing myself in concrete shapes and patterns of color. homemade book cloth & paste paper finding unbound purposing
on pokeyness
so this morning, re-resolved (solved again and again?) and fortified against habitual deer trails of self-deterance, I stayed abed girded only with El Capitane the iphone, whose micro screen precludes distractions such as multiple visible browser windows, and pulled up Pokey Mama once more
aft agley
this morning I woke resolved to forge some progress against the ever-cascading anthill of to-dos– but first, of course, just had to check in with email and facebook… and before I’d even drawn stuttering breath found I’d been suckered deep along meanderings of yet another sparkly novelty
