Archive for October, 2008

one of my turns

Or not.

Some days, moving looks too hard to try.
And thinking gives you a headache.
All the last straws weigh you down.
Like the chicken whose nose
Has been shoved into the ground
Whose beak has been rubbed in the mud
Til it thinks that the mud is the sole,
The only world it has.

Some days I’m a chicken.

But warm-blooded.
A donkey. Or a mule.
A beast of self-imposed burdens.
Some of which are purely imaginary.

And sometimes by lunch-time –
When the mud begins to get to me,
Making me sneeze ands sneeze and sneeze –
I may even look at the sky.


October 31, 2008 at 1:20 pm 2 comments

Tirra lirra by the river sang sir lancelot

She’s go-ing home bye, byeee

Sung to the tune of The Beatles’ She’s Leaving Home.

Notice how my feet are six inches off the ground, like Yudhistra’s on an honesty spree. Since the last time I was here I have burnt bridges and boats and written almost 15,000 words of fiction, only a record-breaking 50% of which has since been deleted. My non-fiction score is a happiness-inducing 300 words.

All is well in my patch of mud.

October 22, 2008 at 11:56 pm 3 comments

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Red Tape

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