Work
The office is cold.
I sit, with an aching back, and ponder the glistening, wet film over my eyes.
I sip a watery chai tea and let the guffaws, tittering taps and chair rustlings of my coworkers puncture my focus.
There's a large pile of blue and white folders to my left, eager to be handled and submitted to electric code.
I consider my lusty hungers and systematically dismiss their sick mewlings. I tell them: Today is a day for resistance. For strength. And they cowar and simper and whine in tiny breaths. Pitiful. I try to forget they are my children and swat at their greasy mouths with my fingers rigid. They stop. For a time.
I contemplate the thin nature of my skin and poke my palms with a bent paper clip. I feel like a doctor. Prodding. Then I get nauseated with the clinical milieu of the space and swiftly dive back into work.
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Conk" from Dictionary.com's word of the day. It has a variety of definitions. I don't feel like typing them. You look them up if you're so friggin' curious. And after that I decided to ignore the prompt completely and draw some weird ghost shape things.)
Today's "365" Project (Make a facial expression with your leftovers. I've done this many times just not with leftovers because I never have them. I've tried to do this one for a few days now and I just never remember until I've already eaten everything.)
"My Greek Salad's Miserable Melancholy"
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The office is cold.
I sit, with an aching back, and ponder the glistening, wet film over my eyes.
I sip a watery chai tea and let the guffaws, tittering taps and chair rustlings of my coworkers puncture my focus.
There's a large pile of blue and white folders to my left, eager to be handled and submitted to electric code.
I consider my lusty hungers and systematically dismiss their sick mewlings. I tell them: Today is a day for resistance. For strength. And they cowar and simper and whine in tiny breaths. Pitiful. I try to forget they are my children and swat at their greasy mouths with my fingers rigid. They stop. For a time.
I contemplate the thin nature of my skin and poke my palms with a bent paper clip. I feel like a doctor. Prodding. Then I get nauseated with the clinical milieu of the space and swiftly dive back into work.
Haiku of the Day:
Foreboding thrums beat
out in the graying city
under construction
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Conk" from Dictionary.com's word of the day. It has a variety of definitions. I don't feel like typing them. You look them up if you're so friggin' curious. And after that I decided to ignore the prompt completely and draw some weird ghost shape things.)
Today's "365" Project (Make a facial expression with your leftovers. I've done this many times just not with leftovers because I never have them. I've tried to do this one for a few days now and I just never remember until I've already eaten everything.)
"My Greek Salad's Miserable Melancholy"
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