What a crazy week it's been. Hardly a moment to breathe. Well, my requested partial got another form rejection (sigh) I'm thinking what I need to do is stop dragging this out and send the queries to every agent on my list at once. What's that you ask? Why haven't I done that already? Well . . . how the hell should I know??? What, you think maybe I have a brain or something? If you've been reading this blog you should know better! Seriously though, I'm worrying that "Slayer" is not really ready for publication. It's an early work of mine that I had set aside, then rewrote last year. I thought I could fix the glaring flaws in it but I'm thinking it may not have been salvageable after all. I'm thinking: one more round of queries, then put it aside and move my focus onto "Fish". Well, at least I got some work done on "First" this week: 1,300 words on Wed. night and another 2,500 at lunch today. (to make up for last night's crazy running about!) I'll try to get another 1,200 tonight but I have to knock off by 9:00 . . . it's the season premiere of BSG! Oh, yea! The Boy and I are big-time excited!
Anyway, stealing an idea from Lynn, over at Spilling Ink, I thought a little poetry would be in order today. Here's one I did about ten years back that still makes me smile, so I figgered it'd be something to leave you pondering on a dull, rainy, Friday (hereabouts, anyway!)
Later!
*************
FADING AWAY
by JA Coppinger
All Rights Reserved
________
________
The ebbing mass of electrons ride
high upon the pulsing tide
of data dreams
and cyber-screams
that leave minds light
on gigabyte
and steals our souls away.
We worship the mouse
and yet, all grouse
of electro-demand
and time's running sand.
Of the microbrain
that drives us insane
and drains all our joys away.
Our keyboards clack
beneath finger's attack
while we digitize
with compu-strained eyes
and adjust baud rates
while cursing Lord Gates
who's taken our wallets away.
So we sit in our chairs
with our blank, vacant, stares
and we curse at the screen
not quite sure what we mean
and we'll all double-click
'til it makes us quite sick
and the men come to take us away.
And each day they get faster
with more vector and raster
while we're all too outdated
to be PC-World rated
and the machines curse at us
through their billion watt bus
as they take our whole world away.
2 comments:
Hi Jim! I love your poem. Thanks for the link. I have a sneaking suspicion about FISH. Just a feeling (and the snippet you provided), but good things are going to happen with it. I just know it. Will you sign my copy?
Thanks, Lynn!
Not only will I sign it, I'll personalize it with a big "thank you" for all your support! :-)
Later!
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