just checking in

yay, just, just

da koooolt

just writing, writing, against the bitter bitter cold- and nyc and oaxaca and toronto, warm warm warm, even berlin, and to think that even everchilly tabriz is catching up here

a

writing, ah, typing, away, away

nothing much 2 say except 4 me writing, counting the words, saving stuff, spellchecking stuff. ah, the life of a writer, literature, hmm, dowdiest of art forms, dowdiest, dowdiest.

anything

to sit and to write about writing, ah, this better be good, better be good. to describe the wonky keyboard on the computer, that has the white tape with the black letters thereon squeezed between the black apple logo and the black brim/rim of the monitor, yay, yay, yay. sentences are too fragmented, that happens when you sit in the too chilly library of the art school, while the bridge is happening, happening. maybe, i should be more concise, one can see the granville bridge from where i am sitting, the cars that drive over it, the banners on the bridge tht fly in the wind. one can see the moving crane above the ocean factory, which is a concrete factory on granville island. and here does the poetry get lost, once you overdescribe something, the romance, the poetry goes puff. that is how it is how it is. and cars are driving buy, outside, in front of the window. let's write some more lets type some more.

b

a

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