Quickie
Just a quickie update on the heels of the last ... I'm in the computer lab at Hillman waiting for Sean to get off work so we can get some grub ... the cuttest old woman is sitting to my left working on what looks to be some sort of manuscript. Sereptitiously I cop a few glances over her rather bent shoulder. She leans close to the screen, peering through her rather large, thick glasses framed in red plastic. She's wearing a floral babushka and points with rather gaunt hands at the monitor as Sean leans over to help her print specific pages of her paper.
As I sat outfront of the Carnegie Library reading "The Path of Minor Planets" by Andrew Sean Greer (yes, I know, I've mentioned him a shit load, just read him and stop bitching, you'll see). He's incredible. And so young. And here I sit, an aspiring writer (who can't spell) next to this rather aged woman who is, despite her unfamiliarity with current technology, is making valiant strides to work in the modern age.
Talk about life affirming. I hope I'm still writing at her age ... though, if I make 50, I'll be happy. So despite my ennui some days, my aversion to work, etc. and occassionally by downright inability to write on certain days, I hope to be working into old age, and preferably not in obscurity.
Pace.
As I sat outfront of the Carnegie Library reading "The Path of Minor Planets" by Andrew Sean Greer (yes, I know, I've mentioned him a shit load, just read him and stop bitching, you'll see). He's incredible. And so young. And here I sit, an aspiring writer (who can't spell) next to this rather aged woman who is, despite her unfamiliarity with current technology, is making valiant strides to work in the modern age.
Talk about life affirming. I hope I'm still writing at her age ... though, if I make 50, I'll be happy. So despite my ennui some days, my aversion to work, etc. and occassionally by downright inability to write on certain days, I hope to be working into old age, and preferably not in obscurity.
Pace.