I can’t wax poetic with my words anymore. My writing has taken a Hemmingway slant. It’s the pitfalls of my profession. Excessive conjunctions and pretty are forbidden to me. I’ve placed my ands, my buts, and my obscure punctuation on a shelf. Occasionally I let out little signs while ogling them. Then I go back to work writing for people who have a ( Read more... )

My leisurely slide into middle class live continues unabated. I awaken in bed to her and roll out. Breakfast is egg whites, followed by a round of core exercises. I get to work and the day is a competition of writing and meetings. When I’m not in a meeting, I’m writing. When I’m in a meeting, sometimes I’m writing. I come home and either head to ( Read more... )

“T’ain’t no thang,” he says, setting down his legs in a tantric position. She observed him from across the room and decided that the flow of leather against his denim was enough of a liner to drop her panties ( Read more... )

It’s been a long time since I’ve written in one of these, or written for my own reasons. Sure, I’ve been writing, but it’s the corporate kind, or the kind that fulminates in the minds of lazy high school students. It had sufficed, but last night, I found myself wandering from room to room, gawking at the events which have chained together over the ( Read more... )

I've been staring at this screen ( Read more... )

Tango. Foxtrot. Tango ( Read more... )

Ah. Writing. I haven’t done this in awhile. At least not that anyone other that Mara has seen. I really ought to write. A few people have sent some inquiries and were met with the usual stoic response. So, not much has happened to me other than the usual giddiness of a wonderful relationship. I figured no one wanted to hear the natty details of my ( Read more... )

( A short )

I am righteously bored. I have spent the last several hours carving out ( Read more... )

I am again on the exercycle. It and I, we are good friends. I see it ( Read more... )