Digging a deeper hole
Just like my credit card, the amount keeps rising. Looks like, with my lack of writing, I am up to, or need to do just about two-thousand words a day from here on out.
Luckily for me, I've told too many people that I am doing this, so it has to get done. Only wish I could find a decent place to write––no good at the house. My favorite cafe, here on Clement street, full of a rough, smoking, group of Asian men out front, but always empty in the back, closed the back, off. Bummer.
One place has internet, but it's too noisy. the other, no internet and no wall plugs for the laptop. the other––just too many poeple coming and going and too much sun shine, creating glare.
I need a closet with a bare light bulb.
Luckily for me, I've told too many people that I am doing this, so it has to get done. Only wish I could find a decent place to write––no good at the house. My favorite cafe, here on Clement street, full of a rough, smoking, group of Asian men out front, but always empty in the back, closed the back, off. Bummer.
One place has internet, but it's too noisy. the other, no internet and no wall plugs for the laptop. the other––just too many poeple coming and going and too much sun shine, creating glare.
I need a closet with a bare light bulb.
posted by Bob Shattuck at 12:49 PM
2 Comments:
I recall a residence of yours that had such a closet with a bare bulb. Were you truly more productive there, Carver?
and deeper . . . who is "swordfish bob?"
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