I have to pee.

He said with a concerned look on his face.

OK.

We wrote the piece; a bricklaid down to sleep- thru the window. wrapped in thick brown paper. she slips; listed, listing left finally coll apsing. on. the stairs withoutlessthanaheavysigh of desperation. hands me the violin on which i remember i know no notes. (INVENT!but w/o circumvention!or retention!)

-The whole damn thing spirals out of control. Slippery slope, whirlpool, the works; like a giant sucking machine slurping the worst of it all-whooosh-right down it's gullet. So what now? we ask ourselves. Heh, nothing to do but write notes about the experience to ourselves on post-its; black ink scattered across the surface, invariably congregating ( Read more... )

in which a series of hastily prepared reports incurs a sense of impending doom, repressing any remaining traces of motivation with a finality befit that of death itself.

You are at home, standing in front of your kitchen stove, trying to remember where you put your keys (they're on the console table by the front door, where you've always intended to keep them but never remember to). You're really in a terrific hurry, but a totally unmotivated one. Like having to go to work on a weekend. Or maybe shopping for ( Read more... )

ahhhh. the kid is at his grandmom's for the night and i just took the BEST NAP EVER.