in the morning, i like to have time.
my E l e c t r
o n i c
pen DECEMBER 2 0 1 2
i n d e
sometimes, the grounded life seems the only way
it's all about thoughts; yes; what i mean is, my
life, and yours, are all about thoughts.
it is in saying absolutely
nothing here, that i say everything there is to
so the next question is, is it really the unsaid
that matters, or only the said.
there is no silence, no peace, no sleep, no
for a mind like mine.
and, through all of these lack of words, you can
read all of your worst possible fears; your
worst possible thoughts;
they are all here.
he talks of transpiration; for him, it's the
work that matters.
what if you are working on the wrong things.
does the tree still make a sound then?
and her, she wants to run run run. arriving with
no work, arriving is the goal, and, the
and me, only peaceful thoughts come before the
coffee is processed, and now, it's too late.
run run run.
"The supreme happiness in life is the
conviction that we
are loved." Victor
oh nine am
you know dasher, and dancer and comet
but do you recall...
at exactly which point the balanced tipped?
pre-christmas eve conversations, go something like
chapter one,read in the tone of Julee Black's 'seven
day fool' or whatever it's called.
chapter one of cynthia and i
deciphering life. (possible title, the life
well in the morning, poots
brain just doesn't want to go there. wipe
yourself of PCI DSS, poots.
itchy orange stoppered ears, hampster runs in a
circle, chapters in my
book bring me back full circle,
is anything, really,
worth writing down at all.
seven twelve am
into her body
today must be
go calm down.
ilove my friends
in different time
but need to shut
blackberry so it
doesn't ding all
chapter 6, "you look
poots stares at
chapter titles, wondering how much is too much on the mEp.
is there a point in the larger scheme, is perfection possible, in words, thoughts and deeds.
itchy ears, tepid java,
coffee ain't what it used
chewing cheeks, a
nearly violent obsession, and
how far does one reduce expectations,
does one whittle them down until one sits alone at the computer.
JM says 'give him a break', but how many breaks before one
simply isn't working anymore?
don't have any, have only gratitude, but then
one could be greatful for oneself
and be perfectly content.
the old font returns,
frustration mounts, poots'
is outta here.
December 14 - Papa is 80
one's for you, Carm
in a book; the book's
after red JD
love, one step,
as they must.
DSS up and
down the hall.