it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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lay a morning glory at my head and feet

I have added 2,345 words to The Sea thy Mistress today, through the time-honored method of dragging myself forward over ridged red-hot iron plates by the palms of my hands. In a kinder world, this would eventually stop hurting quite so much, but I rather imagine it's only going to get more painful.

Still, it beats starving in a gutter. Or so I keep telling myself. Though that may be over faster.

I'm going to take a little bit of a break here and maybe take the dog for a walk, and when that's done, come home and make dinner and then go back to work.

The dog spent the afteernoon being exceptionally cute. This was, I think, his first experience with peanut butter, or a Kong toy, though with a little coaching he figured out how to manage both pretty well. And peanut butter is very nice, thank you.

Thank God for dogs. They are the sovereign cure for self-pity and existential malaise.

Steam, steam, a hundred bad dreams.
Tags: edda of burdens, with your draft or on it
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