Coffee: Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee
I wrote a story about a witch, liked it, let a few people read, and nothing’s come out of me since then, some fits and starts, first chapters, I’ve been traveling, there was the promotion, and I’m training D at work, like a winter squirrel, dumping and digging and everywhere searching for that acorn, but there’s no acorn, and instead next Spring are unintended trees. One month out from thirty I’ve got a beautiful life, but can’t find that spark to sink my teeth.
This isn’t a sob story. I’m bleeding proud. I’m being honest. There’s beauty in the accidents. There’s meaning in this too.
Currently Reading: Another Country, James Baldwin
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some moments are nice, some areCharles Bukowski, War All The Time
nicer, some are even worth