no job but to work anyway nine fifteen -- where are you? I'm leaving at 10;30 so get over here this is contract work this is a contract job i said i'd do for a friend i've known my whole life who used to be friends with my folks but when i was in really bad shape and he asked what's wrong like he really wanted to know cause he really seemed to care and i told him and he listened and he didn't treat me as less but offered any help i wanted and then never spoke to them again... it's the way he is he needs help he asked it's not so bad jeans and t-shirts so long as i keep a throw down suit for in case it looks like the work schedule is til 1-2 monday thru thursday, never on friday or weekends so i guess i can work pretty steadily and that's just the way he is
i found the 5 poems that R picked that he thought were the better to enter in a local poetry fest you had to use your real name he thought i wanted him to pick so if no one liked em it was because he picked the wrong ones really it's not that i told him its that i wouldn't pick any he says pick the ones that mean something to you but do any of them? when a real poet writes a real poem does it have meaning for him or is it just that moment in time, passing by, imprinted on the page having passed through whatever filter we happened to be using then?
I have the five in draft on the other blog but i want to do something else five in a row seems kind of dense and boring and numbing it's not like it's new only recycled - going from here to there
maybe tomorrow i can finish the post over there in my so far so secret place.