Fourth Quarter Pipe Dreams

Right now I am sitting next to a thick stack of printer paper that I would love to call the manuscript to my book. It's two hundred pages of nearly three hundred, and I am sort of impressed by the volume. Unfortunately it's not my book, it's part of my blog. Part of my blog - the part that I am going to being meticulously sifting through for parts what might someday be my book.

For the moment it is simply laying on my bed - next to the comely deaf cat whom I have let in because I need the company tonight - but tomorrow I will begin reading the bitter bits of it, throwing out the crap that you all so patiently read but I won't be putting in the book. I have decided I have enough stones to make a stew out of.

Littering the apartment are signs of a life that needs organizing: A sack with heavy paper and a new set of exactos; the beginnings of a mock for my new piece; A small stack of magazines donated by Toad for the start of said piece. Books - half in French, half in English all left mostly unread - stacked against the TV and on my night table. The beginnings of a healthy life hiding in the corners in the form of vegetable and yoga mats.

I'm plotting and scheming.