Perchance to dream

I could do this, I could. I love my job, I do love it, but I could do this forever. I get up when it seems right to, and I make coffee. Maybe I read the paper or maybe, if I woke up with a sentence in mind, I write first. In any event, at some point in the morning, I put my hand on a pen and the pen on a page and I make sentences, and the part of my brain that occasionally says things like, hey, that sentence sucks! gets told to shut the hell up. Your time is not now, you’ll have your time later. And I write till it feels like it’s time to stop, and if it’s Monday, I go to the gym for yoga and a run. Or else I have lunch. Then I write a little more, and think about what to defrost for supper.

I love my job, but man, I love this more.


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