where the writers are
The damn thing was in my bag!

The damn thing was in my bag! Yes, the spider recently flicked from my shoulder crawled this morning onto my pants leg out of my work bag. I flicked again and this time followed it up with a stomp. Problem solved.

I looked at the growing list of documents in my Google docs account. It pleases me to see this:

Today: 6 documents created or edited
Yesterday 6 documents created or edited

And that trend continues till it drops off to oblivion a little over a month ago. Oblivion lasted 12 years. Today I wrote 1 flash piece, edited another, and started 2 short stories. All here at work, in between interruptions. Work is a fat cow in the middle of the highway, but if one must navigate around it, Govt work is the work to have. I write all day long now, even when I'm not at the computer. Driving to the post office today, I noticed a wedding ring on a woman's finger in the car next to me - scuffed, squeezed onto the finger. She melted into her clothes without ac, spat at her boiling, clutchy children. Another man at the post office talking to himself...no...damn bluetooth, scratched his testicle when he thought no one was looking, reading numbers off a spreadsheet into the air. I saw a girl laughing hysterically in a yellow car. One brown tree aching in the heat, its roots knuckling up concrete. They all get captured in the notebook. Perhaps they'll make an appearance someday soon.

I work on paring down, refining, unearthing the things that are important. This is rocky ground to plow. Nothing has grown here for a while.

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