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foxing_gloves

September 2017

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May. 11th, 2017

I'm not doing too well keeping to my summer commitments. The excuse I keep telling myself is it's because I know I won't be able to do them when I'm on my Colorado trip. But, you know, excuses. I have a lot of those.

I haven't been reading. I haven't been exercising. I did do some free writing on Monday for 20 minutes. It was so hard.

Good Bones by Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I've shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I'll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that's a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

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