Night is when my best is said - quietly - to no one My orgy of clients has rolled from my hands There were too many to love .../
All simple pleasures of sleep have now been reduced over these past three days by work and their changes to that work as all my efforts are then undone to be redone before their deadline is met in that dirt of freelancing No paid sick leave for us workers of late hours and others' foibles
Our slack dog sleeps - again - under backlit performing particles - those flecks - peeled and rubbed - bare floating remnants of us in ramped tilts of warming beams - up there - fine speckles cavort against our sureness of earth’s old ways - under ageing theories of gravity - That free carnival of … Continue reading Our Slack Dog Sleeps
I am abraded by a faux light for my immediate set of tasks - I sit at my cluttered desk .../
You are a part of hustle porn having once taken the dark oath in a silent swearing-in .../
This quiescent night is my daytime of no fools, no calls, no unread emails, no uploaded updates..
No, I do not regularly commute away to work, or to pushy schools, or sumptuous trips alone..
My work, the drawn-up stuff, takes me to chair-rattled halls and outwardly fabulous hotels, but these days I visit on-line to inspect the not-right spaces, to then conjure in the nothing of their rent-echoed rooms such ideas and extents of build that will last hours, days or weeks, but never much more: My work, the … Continue reading My Work
'Freelance' - when the body says the mind isn't clever
Another ridiculous o'clock finding me drawn at my desk, hauling creativity and effort from finite resources that, when I am slow and upright, need my re-engineered stick, but not here, sitting, making other worlds and other places to help win Soho agencies their prizes, small fools' jewels: My rude award is their money, ninety days … Continue reading The Late Shift, Again