I know it's only Wednesday but it's my Friday. After work I'll enjoy a quiet dinner with some friends and then go home, mingle with my comforts and continue on with my current TV obsession, Downton Abbey. Season 3 arrived in the mail yesterday. I'm three episodes in already. I try desperately to savour them but I simply cannot. I'm enthralled.
I haven't been blogging much but I'm writing. I am working on yet another short story called 'Yee Haw'. On my first day off tomorrow I have planned an artist date for myself after running errands. I'm going to park myself somewhere where there is coffee and scribble all over my sheets with a red pen. I've also decided there needs to be a few more scenes so I'll have my thinking cap on besides.
Also, on a bright note, my dear friend and wordsmith Ru has joined me online! She started a blog of her own and I can't WAIT to read every single word she writes. She's magnificent and should be famous.
A little poetry for a wet Wednesyday:
Mining for Marcel Proust
marcel proust
was a startling image
falling into an asthma attack
mining my languid prose for
great style & perception
valentin
louis
georges
eugene
marcel
proust
turned his back on my writing
deemed my carefully crafted pages
blatantly numbered pastiche
I discredited his false accusations
challenged him to a quick draw
gunfight outside of an ambient saloon
the medley of my poetic ingredients
coupled with the exactness of fame
warranted an integer of expressions
of defense & anthologized pardon
marcel proust
hurled a compendium of essays
after a licentious literary review
was published citing his work as
unconscious memories of the deaf
valentin
louis
georges
eugene
marcel
proust
invented everything
& revised nothing
all allegorical
& me
still
excavating
for gold
**
All for now. Almost quitting time. Tea is almost gone. Work is almost done.
In propinquity,
Nic
**
All for now. Almost quitting time. Tea is almost gone. Work is almost done.
In propinquity,
Nic
