Advisory (Gravity Seems Weak)
While everyone else is doing NaNo, I will play a game I can win.
For the rest of November, there will be a post of some sort per day. I'm trying to come back to myself and back to the habit of writing as myself, which is a whole different flavor of honest pretend.
Today is cold and clear, blue and golden, and I swear the next ten minutes will belong entirely to me.
Woke slowly, conscious of the pain in my ears and head, to this looped in my brain. And before you ask, yes, it is an improvement over the original.
Dance 'til you're dead
Wake me up when September ends
Waiting for October, cross my fingers, cross my heart
And hope to die
It's the most wonderful time of the year
Heads will roll
I'm working on a haiku about estate sales, about a reality thereof. I can't get the last line to hurt enough.
I have to beg for an extension on this application and I probably won't get it, why is life so fucking hard all the time. I mean, whatever, I can do it, I guess I'll go prove it, again.
The problem with being a hero in your own story is that the credits never roll. You never get to stop or even slow down. Ever.
I don't want breakfast, but if I don't have it, I'll be sorry later.
I still have some reading on Liberia to do, I better go engage with the material, and I better go I guess print all the survivor's guilt stuff or I'll never look at it, I'll never look at this monstrosity I've half-wrought because if there is a hell, I'll see you there.
Our hearts are small and ever thinning
There is no hope ever of winning
O, why fear death?
Be scared of living
Coffee is so strong I just drank some bean slurry. Mmmm, espresso.
Oh! So I've also got to fold my informant a peace crane! And make sure that I shower. All this within the next, what, hour?
This week has flown by at like, "They hit the atmosphere at Mark Fifteen, which you guys know is, is pretty unstable..." which to some of my friends is Warp Ten, and to others is Ludicrous Speed and to still others is really fuckin' fast.
Throw me your rope, Lord
Sling it to me
If we are to battle
I must not be weak
I have found a beacon of glory in the darkness. Thank you so much, springloaded; you don't know all the hope you've given others. I'm fuckin' serious, what don't you fuckin' understand?
Presently mine says "YOU WERE BORN A WINNER, YOU WERE THE FASTEST SPERM"
Anyway. I have to go.
For the rest of November, there will be a post of some sort per day. I'm trying to come back to myself and back to the habit of writing as myself, which is a whole different flavor of honest pretend.
Today is cold and clear, blue and golden, and I swear the next ten minutes will belong entirely to me.
Woke slowly, conscious of the pain in my ears and head, to this looped in my brain. And before you ask, yes, it is an improvement over the original.
Dance 'til you're dead
Wake me up when September ends
Waiting for October, cross my fingers, cross my heart
And hope to die
It's the most wonderful time of the year
Heads will roll
I'm working on a haiku about estate sales, about a reality thereof. I can't get the last line to hurt enough.
I have to beg for an extension on this application and I probably won't get it, why is life so fucking hard all the time. I mean, whatever, I can do it, I guess I'll go prove it, again.
The problem with being a hero in your own story is that the credits never roll. You never get to stop or even slow down. Ever.
I don't want breakfast, but if I don't have it, I'll be sorry later.
I still have some reading on Liberia to do, I better go engage with the material, and I better go I guess print all the survivor's guilt stuff or I'll never look at it, I'll never look at this monstrosity I've half-wrought because if there is a hell, I'll see you there.
Our hearts are small and ever thinning
There is no hope ever of winning
O, why fear death?
Be scared of living
Coffee is so strong I just drank some bean slurry. Mmmm, espresso.
Oh! So I've also got to fold my informant a peace crane! And make sure that I shower. All this within the next, what, hour?
This week has flown by at like, "They hit the atmosphere at Mark Fifteen, which you guys know is, is pretty unstable..." which to some of my friends is Warp Ten, and to others is Ludicrous Speed and to still others is really fuckin' fast.
Throw me your rope, Lord
Sling it to me
If we are to battle
I must not be weak
I have found a beacon of glory in the darkness. Thank you so much, springloaded; you don't know all the hope you've given others. I'm fuckin' serious, what don't you fuckin' understand?
Presently mine says "YOU WERE BORN A WINNER, YOU WERE THE FASTEST SPERM"
Anyway. I have to go.