Saturday, July 25, 2009

Getting closer....

At Mom's at the moment. Bit by bit we are getting the house cleared out. Still have to haggle with Mom over certain items being removed but today felt like real progress.

Going to miss "The Tempest" tonight. Only eight more shows left. Tomorrow there is rain in the forecast. Might have to try going during the week if possible.

Must go get some dinner. Thinking Red Lobster for some cheddar biscuits. Mmm biscuits.

When I get back to my place, definitely opening a bottle of some red. I need it tonight.

Friday, July 24, 2009

A new week, new chapters

Got a new chapter done on Heritage House in a hurry this week. I admit I was in a funk for a while.

I need to stop forcing myself to work linearly. If this story comes to me out of sequence at odd angles, so be it. Getting finished is the goal, not adhering to a predefined order. I know the overall story, so it's OK if my writing skips around.

Anyways...

I have actually requested a week of vacation for myself. Week after next. Spur of the moment decision. No idea of I will do anything special.

In the meantime, think I will catch "The Tempest" on Saturday. Finally looks like I will have time AND the weather is cooperating.

Think I will open a bottle of vino tonight. I am a wee bit overstocked. In fact... I could throw a little wine tasting party if I wanted...

hmmm...

Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away