This is where I am now. Having been at my desk during a movie last night, I'm wondering how pressed for time i am in regard to writing. I jotted down notes on a novel and an its accompanying poetry. Some were based on the emotions of yesterday.
Donna and I were were talking this morning and I think she would still like a blender for Christmas to make "dietetic smoothies", but she didn't have her a dvd player, so I brought her one. She bought me a winter coat and gave it to me early. It's nice. This morning I put on a Christmas album, one that I had given her, while she was hurriedly getting dressed and she happenned to have liked the idea.
I listened to The Limping Ghost last night, which was based on the Sherlock Holmes story, The Adventure of the Crooked Man.
I am right now having coffee in Boston near the birthplace of Ralph Waldo Emerson and the photograph above is how it looked in the year 1910.
Of course Google Sites and its rss night be better for writing a novel in progress than a quick blog almost disc-jockeyed from a coffee shop. Not only that but why it takes longer is that its a translation of perceptions and observations, therefore emotions, into fictions.
I was in fact , and in Cambridge, fact here yesterday on a parallel street. There are somethings about it that I just do not right now know, and can only surmise.
Scott Lord
