we sat in the flickering light; the short afro bobbed up and down with laughter in front of me, and from the corner of my eye i suddenly realised that she wasn't looking at the screen, she was looking at me looking at the screen.
The smile on my face suddenly seemed goofy and affected under her gaze, her surrepticious gaze, that even now she thought she was getting away with.
i could tell that she was smiling, not at the antics in front of us, at me. There was a warmth to it, a fondness; i felt kind and sticky and melty.
And it didn't matter that the movie stunk, it mattered that we were there together and having a good time at a stink movie.
----
it's tuesday 8th, my second day off work, skiving off, playing hooky, on island time, wagging, having a mental health day, pulling a sickie, seeing a man about a dog.
i decided last night that i can afford to miss another day, and tonight i may decide the same thing about tomorrow - that's the thing about time off, it's infectious.
So i decided that today i would begin the 3rd draft in earnest, that i would dedicate myself to it, nose to the grindstone, head down, do some hard yakka (as those across the pacific would say and at which my nose, removed slghtly from the grindstone, would wrinkle. It is a distasteful phrase, and 'yakka' is not a real word. Of course it would have been easier to simply delete the phrase rather than go on to explain my opposition to it, but one leads to the other and once put down, it would be dishonest to delete it), pull my socks up.
So far i have read sophie's journal update, and discovered twwly: smart, funny, sweet, and stunning.
i have been for a walk with the dog, and a wander to the end of the driveway with the cat. i have sent emails to those that required them, and not answered the phone three times ( i know who it is, and that she cares about me and is worried about me, given current events, but i'm not really in the mood for reassuring and reassurance, and talking, later but not right now).
i have not, however, written a single word towards the 3rd draft. i don't know why, i know that once i start that it will just flow out - all the problems with the structure have been fixed, the holes in character plugged, the third act has legs and is gagging for a race - but i can't be bothered putting the key in the ignition, turning it over and watching it run.
It seems procrastination makes for long journal entries.
theories about why dogs eat poo being accepted now
The smile on my face suddenly seemed goofy and affected under her gaze, her surrepticious gaze, that even now she thought she was getting away with.
i could tell that she was smiling, not at the antics in front of us, at me. There was a warmth to it, a fondness; i felt kind and sticky and melty.
And it didn't matter that the movie stunk, it mattered that we were there together and having a good time at a stink movie.
----
it's tuesday 8th, my second day off work, skiving off, playing hooky, on island time, wagging, having a mental health day, pulling a sickie, seeing a man about a dog.
i decided last night that i can afford to miss another day, and tonight i may decide the same thing about tomorrow - that's the thing about time off, it's infectious.
So i decided that today i would begin the 3rd draft in earnest, that i would dedicate myself to it, nose to the grindstone, head down, do some hard yakka (as those across the pacific would say and at which my nose, removed slghtly from the grindstone, would wrinkle. It is a distasteful phrase, and 'yakka' is not a real word. Of course it would have been easier to simply delete the phrase rather than go on to explain my opposition to it, but one leads to the other and once put down, it would be dishonest to delete it), pull my socks up.
So far i have read sophie's journal update, and discovered twwly: smart, funny, sweet, and stunning.
i have been for a walk with the dog, and a wander to the end of the driveway with the cat. i have sent emails to those that required them, and not answered the phone three times ( i know who it is, and that she cares about me and is worried about me, given current events, but i'm not really in the mood for reassuring and reassurance, and talking, later but not right now).
i have not, however, written a single word towards the 3rd draft. i don't know why, i know that once i start that it will just flow out - all the problems with the structure have been fixed, the holes in character plugged, the third act has legs and is gagging for a race - but i can't be bothered putting the key in the ignition, turning it over and watching it run.
It seems procrastination makes for long journal entries.
theories about why dogs eat poo being accepted now