Little Wing

When you are tired of Olivia Coleman you are tired of life. THAT IS ALL ON THE OSCARS.

This week’s a monthly crossover, but I’m giving serious thought to taking some time off. By that I mean that I know mentally there’s not much left in the tank, because I’ve been writing poetry pretty solidly since September. I’ve promised my daughter a birthday playlist (14 on the 5th) but apart from that there is very little actual desire to do anything but re-write a particular piece of fiction. The enthusiasm for that is very great indeed, so much so I was planning the re-write in bed last night.

I’ll work out the details on the writing site, suffice it to say I wanna be walking everywhere as much as possible in the next few weeks. I’d record the steps too but last night the Fitbit became a brick. This is the second time in three months a device has effectively died: it is hard to tell whether software is at fault or if the build quality of these devices is the bigger issue. Either way, free replacement is inbound.


After that, and an edit on this second collection of poems for a March 1st deadline, it’s building furniture, recycling shit we don’t need and generally clearing the decks so that the next project (front room redecoration) can begin in earnest. It might happen at Easter, or it could take until the summer. Either way, it will allow me a custom area to work and create within, and I couldn’t be more excited at the prospect.

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