Again, its the weekend and I'm hurriedly writing in a coffee shop in downtown Boston. Sometimes a paragraph of fiction comes in a flash, conceivably in either first person or third. I just brought Donna a coffee and kissed her before her class and realized I don't have time to edit or revise fiction as well as blog. She has bought me many coffees, so I told her there was no time to discuss money and that I just got her a coffee- a kiss would suffice.
Quick paragraph of fiction in first person:
I don't entirely have to accept God, what I have to accept, within the principles of love and romance, is that, if this morning I heard her on the phone while we were getting dressed and while she was sincerely trying to make up for any lack in our relationship, the fact is I can be considerate about things, and if my father in law was yelling at the woman when I was in no need of a divorce then time went by, and after we separated he apparently passed away; I avoid dwelling on anything I might be reminded of now. Now I can accept an awkward morning without the comparison, whether or not her father too could be a little more soft spoken. She wasn't feeling well yesterday.
That's the fiction that really doesn't have a steady ongoing novel to be "interjected" into at the moment. I might have enough time for a cigarette during coffee but barely enough to look through books on art, read film reviews, or look for poetry about which I would be blogging.
Allow me to see what I have left over in the computer for miscellaneous photos or posters.