POEM 031/100

September 6, 2012

Work completed for the day

he leans all his weight  on the door frame

and wipes his brow

 

“Now,” he sighs,

with a grin that favours sadness,

“I have to go home and cook my dinner

for I am alone”

 


Vacationing + working

August 3, 2009

» Today is the first day of my vacation, if you don’t consider Saturday the first day. And since I’d have today off as well, it being a statutory holiday, my vacation doesn’t really start until tomorrow. That’s the first day I’ll be not at my desk when the chumps I work with will be at theirs. Not that the defining aspect of a vacation revolves around work-related schadenfreude. Others don’t need to suffer for me to find joy in time off. But it does make time off that much sweeter, doesn’t it? Tomorrow we hit the road for Andrew’s wedding in Nova Scotia. Travelling always feels too much like work to me.

» I’ve started writing a novel. I only have about 78,500 words to go. getting back into the swing of writing (interesting and engaging) prose fiction is proving to be harder than I expected. I’m confident by the time I finish the first draft several months from now, I’ll be able to revisit the dryness of the first half and fluff it up a bit with some purple metaphors—similar to giving an old pillow the illusion of being soft and fresh and not full of dust and mildew. Then once the revision process is complete, several drafts later, I’ll have a perfect manuscript to collect dust in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. If anyone needs something to prop-up the corner of a table, contact me in about a year.


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