November 18, 2003
Keyboard clacking procrastination dangles from a ledge of too much work and knowing that once started twill will be consuming. The early bird gets the poisoned worm of stress and congestion delayed in congenial toast. If I write a hundred words rather than reading tens of hundreds of words will I feel refreshed enough to hunker down with the papers on my desk. Deadlines are looming and the flavoured thrill of getting done must become the burning desire in a hungry gut. Time to put away the desires of my choice and dance in the work ethic of my survival.