more than begin but less than forget
The problem with looking for icons of Harvey Specter (you magnificent bastard!) is that so many of them have Mike Ross in them too. Sigh. But I persevered and found icons of Harvey, Donna, Harvey & Donna, and Jessica, so that is good. I also uploaded a new Carol Danvers icon. I feel like there were other things I was meaning to look for, but now I can't remember what they were. Work has been...ugh. We have a board meeting tomorrow and I was handling it! It was handled. But now I'm like, "WHAT AM I FORGETTING? BRAIN DON'T FAIL ME NOW." Mostly it means an afternoon at the copier. At least it's not at 8 am this time?
*
I guess that trope meme was fun, because I now have a couple new stories to write. Heh.
*
I thought I had a third thing (and let's be real, that second thing is not really worthy of its own section), but I guess I don't, so have a poem:
I Am Learning To Abandon The World
by Linda Pastan
I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/502029.html.
people have commented there.
*
I guess that trope meme was fun, because I now have a couple new stories to write. Heh.
*
I thought I had a third thing (and let's be real, that second thing is not really worthy of its own section), but I guess I don't, so have a poem:
I Am Learning To Abandon The World
by Linda Pastan
I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/502029.html.
people have commented there.