From time to time someone will pop into your head and you wonder whatever happened to them. And then you google them. Yes, you do, don't deny it. Memory is like the studio of a dishonest photographer, cluttered with altered photos he will proudly show the ego--and half-developed ones that might have told the truth. … Continue reading Sort of memory of a sort of friendship.
A random poem. Sorry I can't be who you thought I wasI won't say who you wantedBecause I don't knowAnd that's the whole problemYellow ranch house and telephone wiresCrumbling stairsAnd an ancient carI just can't understand itCryptic blossoms, less than one percentCyber distance I still rememberPerplexedBecause I have a cherry treeWith blossomsBut no cherries.
[I'll get the update crap out of the way quick. At the outset of November, I was hoping to achieve a revision of a work-in-progress, but I quickly realized that it would necessitate a change from third-person perspective to first. While a big project, I wasn't daunted or disappointed--it's just big. I made a lot … Continue reading Addicted to a waste of life.