The name the punch clock gives as I dial in my number. As always, I am late. Choosing writing, and smoking before work. I’d rather type in my underwear at 3:34 than put my contacts in and get ready to punch in at 4. I go when I arrive. That time might be near 5. … Continue reading Accepted with warning.
I like to think of myself as creative. Maybe sometimes think artistic. It's creative thinking. I have done things, achieved great heights, produced something to be proud of; in my mind. The harsh truth: it's too much work to make it real. Art without working is an empty place. It doesn't exist. Outside my mind … Continue reading The artist, not the art
I'm listening to tunes. Pulsating beats. Supposedly designed to aid study. Thought, I hope. Or maybe just memorize. The wavelengths are linked to my mind. Sound. I wait for my turn in a race. A video game. I've driven thousands of kilometers on virtual asphalt. My study has been drifting with a Xbox controller. I've … Continue reading Waiting