Sunday Haiku (Sonnets are hard)

I remember taking a class on Shakespeare in my Junior year in high school.  I’d imagine that in most schools, these days, dead white males such as him are not even taught anymore.  The only memory I have was a class discussion having to do with the sonnets.  I’ve no idea what it was, but this little cute pixy at my right spoke up in favor of what’d I’d said.  I’d never noticed her before, but when you’re seventeen and suddenly look over to a cute, bright, smiling face inches from yours… memories are funny things.

Tomorrow?  ExComm.  Awful people doing awful things.

One coin with two sides

Love and Death spin in the air

Careful how it’s caught

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MCD – Abandoned Factory 7 (Close)

This is a little longer, but I wanted it shut down this weekend.  That, of course, is not the same as “over.”  Few stories are ever over.

The construction of this is a bit different as I’ve made a change to my storytelling.

This was fun; perhaps too much fun, though.  What next?

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MCD – Abandoned Factory 5

Took a mental heath day and not because it was 70F in central Ohio.  There were two times, yesterday at work, when I had to stop and sit on the floor in the pharmacy to rest; I didn’t trust myself to sit on a chair.  I’d had that wonderful writing jag all weekend but as a result I was having a hard time distinguishing this world from RealLife(TM).  If you think that sounds hackneyed or stupid, you’re not a writer.

So what do I do with time away from work?  Go back to the ‘Factory, of course.  At 51, it’s not called ‘being self-destructive,’ it’s called ‘being aware of what little time is left.’

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