futurebird's Diaryland Diary
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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
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