futurebird's Diaryland Diary
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the diplomat
I took this in the citi bank ATM on 40th Street last night. I just liked teh green frosting on the glass, I guess.
I’m getting ugly censoring myself here. That’s why I can’t write like I did back in the university days: I listen too hard before I type. I’m becoming a tepid, quiet, diplomat --and that’s no good!
I have so much work to do... but none of it's really my work. I’m not a programmer. I never will be. I’m a stand in, that’s all, I’m a playwright. I’m working on an opera--
a what? what on earth did I just type? an opera? Yes. I did bring it out. I’m working on the book for a opera, that’s my secret. there I said it. that’s what I’m waking up for and i think I might even know how to get these words on the paper so they can do something when they get sung.
It’s after midnight. R is fast asleep and I told him not to go down for our last load of clothes... "I’ll get it." I said. Why did I do that? I’m worn out. But he's sleeping.
And yet ready to run a few marathons...
10:37 a.m. - 2002-11-21
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------