Working Out, Hardcore
I spend a lot of time at my computer. Usually writing, in fact, a lot of the time writing. I research stuff on the net, from Wikipedia, to YouTube documentaries, to crazy sites about douche bags with hot chicks…or else I’m just surfing the wwInterweb looking for comic or movie news. It’s an easy life.
Though I own a laptop I don’t generally house the comp on my actual lap. I want my boys to be able to swim when I need them so cooking them for prolonged periods of the day doesn’t not seem productive, conducive nor facilitative to what I want them for. I give them their space, they give me mine. So I am pretty much always at my desk, which is not a problem for me, though I would like a nicer chair one day…anyway.
I only noticed recently that I must be working the candle into holes on both ends, like the end of Requiem For A Dream (“ass to ass“) because I finally noticed the damage that I am causing. I could be digging through my desk all the way to Abu Dhabi.
It’s like that tale of horror from hell where one second there is the time it takes a mountain to be worn to nothing by a bird sharpening its beak on it once a year, and then take that second and turn it into the eternity you have to spend there. Not fun.
Am I chained to my desk for the rest of my life until I finally stumble across something readable? “It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.”
Nope, not yet.