A friend of the family’s mother passed away over the weekend. My mother called to tell me about it. This is someone we knew for years. I am very sorry this happened to him. I worked with his mother when I used to live in Charleston. We both had jobs at College of Charleston. She retired from there before I left C of C for Verizon Wireless.
His mom was a sweetheart, and we sometimes ended up riding the same bus to work (sometimes class for me). It’s a sad situation.
Here I am drinking some potent coffee. I think it will cleanse my colon. OMG it tastes like it could wake the dead. Such is the life. I needed a kick. Never mind that the kick landed me on the other end of Abercorn St. I think I had an out of body experience with this coffee.
Workday started with a humdrum of a meeting. I was in no mood to hear of the glorious changes that would make the Circ dept better. I was more than turned off, as usual. Only the silliness changes with more games to make a brother feel like they trying to work him over. Workload has some more tacked on BS. I digress…
Somewhere other here is a world waiting for me to break free of the BS. A couple of pals are doing some extra busy work. I feel for them as they have a lot to do. Somehow I’m following their lead, but with no overtime.
Working on chapter three of my comic book. I get to page five when I have the overwhelming need to write it over. Why? The scene is so similar to my novel, that I feel I’m cheating myself. The novel’s material is unique and good. I don’t want to lose that, so I am changing the five pages I did. That’s life, and I’ll deal. More elements of my comic are making sense. Writing is becoming clearing. Why didn’t the novel do this?
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