I look out of the window and I see
I need to work
But the wooly dark…
I put a lamp on, can you believe it? At 11am!
I guess it’s a drifting kind of day.
But the noise…
(Texas rain isn’t gentle, Texas rain doesn’t ‘drizzle’, and Texas rain will have you out on your arse if you’re not careful)
…is making the cats nervous, and they’re running and caterwauling
and hurting my ears. Maybe it’s a quiet, drifting kind of day.
It’s easier to work on loud kinds of days. Not quiet, drifting kinds of days but-strong-and-solid-loud kinds of days, and I really need to
Fucking rain. Pissing on my plans. How am I meant to be productive in an atmosphere like this? How will I measure my worth if not by my output
Or by how useful I am to others?
You’ve been fooled.
‘The Environment’ again
What a fucking ruse.
As if I am ‘Me’ & it is ‘It’.
I turn off the lamp.
I look out of the window and see
(farther reading/inspired partially by: Timothy Morton)