Wednesday, April 08, 2009

She had it coming.

Anyone who brags about a new method that is working so unbelievably fantastically well after the phenomenal stretch of three whole days probably deserves to

1. wake up with scratchy eyes and curse the wind.
2. fail to find the lost keys in an always chaotic house.
3. have no internet for a whole day because of a change in ISP, meaning that the new e-mail waiting from running son was out of reach.
4. go to the nearest campus (the wi-fi!) with what has got to take the prize for the Worst Laptop on Earth (this is purely factual and contains not even a tinge of whining. It just is. The Worst.).
5. try said new method and feel not one tiny pulse of life in the material. Big whoop, is what the freewrite, notes, &c. said to me, as I perused and re-perused. Screw you.

I did, however, have the consolation of a dog who sat with me through my trials. Seriously, when I wrapped up in the big blanket to stay warm and nurse my troubles, he nosed his way underneath, possibly in a show of solidarity, although it must be said that his motives may have been a little self-serving. I believe he may have been waiting for the merest hint that we might take a walk.


  1. the power of the love of an animal cannot be overstated. Yay Bruiser!

  2. Maybe the Muse (do you believe in the Muse?) is just gearing up to pour out on you double-whammy inspiration tomorrow . . .


    It's a sign: the word verif says "baligurl" - definitely a cape-name of that long-eyed goddess . . .

  3. . . . in her most Wordish aspect apparently - the word verif now says "langu" which as everyone knows is the tongues of flames that teach seekers "some melodious sonnet"

  4. And she is very gracious with her Medieval French "mersi" for my interpretation in her behalf. (Sorry, I'm done now. No matter what she sticks in the word verif next.)

  5. Am sorry for the continuing scratchy eyes and the wind. Am feeling your pain about the writing thing. But it all contributes to a damn fine post here.

  6. I must remember to have my free-writes/wastes of time poem attempts talk to me and swear a little. Always makes for an amusing blog post. From you.
    Mo dint, which clearly means that tomorrow, the muse will weigh in heavy with mo' dint.



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