A tiny bit pleased with this strictly enforced break...more time to think about sex, and how my lipstick looks...the ability to write at work has been taken off my hands, my former office has been turned into a storage area. I'm now up front. Reception. Somewhere I never wanted to go and never wanted to revisit: the pleasant voice, the forced smile, the telling someone when I have to use the restroom. Several months was presented to me, but my guess is it will go on much longer. There are benefits. I am busier, my day goes by at a slightly less molasses speed.
-cutting off there, I'm boring even myself. I will admit that the beautiful weather has left me ambivalent about this little journal - this portal to the narrative that's sleeping. I've heard that's common up here, artists put down their chosen media to simply soak in the vitamin D...except for photographers...Gary's passion has only increased. I'm more than a little jealous that his muse is sitting right on his shoulder, mine seems to have gone on extended leave...
Ah, but it's Wednesday:
When the cerebral
Is shot through with brilliant sun
What remains is you