Sorry for being so late, but I was busy being anything but the hardwrriting writer who has weitten 4000 words in each of the last two days, which was totally unexpected as I hadn't written with the necessary determination to harvest that much in a day since the first week of...
Let me review my records and look on back to what feels like forever ago.
Oh, it was as recent as the first week of Aqugust where I twice went four fields or better.
So in spite of the weakness of August, it's actually a month where I harvested four fields three times, so far and one field another time.
Also so far, but likely that's the only time that I will harvest that many fields in one day for the rest of the year.
I certainly won't do it today, the second full day since the pathos fell on my head and left me baffled at first.
Sigh.
But thanks to the efforts of those two days and the efforts of two other earlier days, I got back to the point of winning the week, even though I lost something else that was going to make the days brighter.
However, it is what it is and I will just have to muddle through until it isn't muddling through.
Oh goody. It's the Room's Doorknob in Chief, what's he going to have to say today?
He's very jealous of me or something to be commenting of late.
So I must be jealous of him? Heck no, I don't know anything about him, I only bring him up because he's set on being a doorknob.
Blargh.
If I were to make this the 3rd straight four field harvest day I would have to write at least 3725 words between now and the end of the day which is more than 11 hours and maths out to 339 words an hour which doesn't take into account the time in this hour.
That's certainly doable as I had that amazing harvest on Tuesday.
Not that I expect to have that kind of day again.
At least not this week.
So I need to write at least 725 words.
I can do that can't I?
Unless of course I travel through time, most likely to the future, but in it could also be the past as that too holds to me.
So obviously, that kind of travelling takes up time and I can't write while travellinng through and likely won't write 725 words because of that travel.
That's not good.
But there it is.
I edit not
What you see is what you got
And what has come to be
Because of that single line
Is a little wine
From your goodly grapes
Which I will sell
Yes thanks to you
That is what I came to do
Though since it's verse
There's no better
There's only worse
So what I sell it for
Is hear hear hear
That's a good little bit
Of goodly poetry
Since you spun it out
From a single line
That's there words
Of goodly praise
Which I wouldn't have
If not for you
Thus I titel this
The Dryad's Gift
Hmm, I cut out a whole little bit of writing because of him?
Wow, what are the odds that I would do that because there's no way those few words about him were going to come to his attention.
Oh well.
Would I want that kind of possibility?
I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life, but right now, there's a part of me that says maybe I want to be by myself for that length of time because it's been forever sincee there was any of the goodest tyhings things that come with it.
And that is hard on a soul which is weighted to the good.
But it's not the frame around the soul that has made me this
bearer of hiatory not laid bare.
Oh bother.
But it is what it is and seems like it ever will be because they see things in my eyes that aren't even there anymore.
Or are they?
There their for them to see.
When I do stand and ask the question that's always been hard.
This is a swear
For I have a care
Not to limit the eyes
That would care to read
What I write
For public consumption
Since I have the gumption
To do this thing
That few would do
Especially as publicly
As I intend to do
Through here of course
My very own site
Where the words that I write
Or most of them
Will find to be home
Even if it feels
Like I write alone
In silence yes
Which I confess
Is another kind of hard
I could do without
Well, well, well.
No, not the kind of well I saw me being two fays ago, but it happened and this is what came after.
And that includes me writing hard towards 725 words as I've already slipped past half a field of harvest after my travel through time , which ended when it did and left me enough to unpack the Dryad's Gift, which was a nice little poem that was later followed by another.
So lots of poetry, even though I freely admit that it is the least regarded art.
But it is one of my two great gifts when it comes to writing, that and the ability to write a million+ words in a single year.
Mind, you no matter how much 725 words I write this quarter and it will be naice amount past, I am still looking at 4th of almost 3000 words.
Not that I need to write that many tonight to help me reach the 20 field week because that's all but guaranteed as I'm closing in on 17 fields now and will get close to the 18th for certain sure tonight.
Or defiantly past it if I harvest the four fields like I've done the past two days.
Yes, I know, it's too much writing about writing.
I should get back to poetry because I'm feeling it.
Yes I'm feeling it
Though I will admit
I don't need the hands
Of stupid misery
To poetuically
Though that is where
It got its start
So it will always be a part
Of my inspiration
It's just painfuilly obvious
That I'd rather be inspired
By better things
Like love and happiness
Daring adventure
And scary monsters
Lurking in the night
That's more fun to write
But sweet lemondade
Comes from lemons
So here's that drink
And just think
You get it for less than a quarter
How sweet am I
Damn, look at all the poetry I've brought you.
And that's the kind of poetry I have at the ready for someone I'm sweet on.
Though perhaps I should say, for what it's worth because poetry has never done for me what it does for musicians.
I guess you could call me jealous.
Now this is not to say it hasn't been appreciated by anyone I wrote it for, which made me happy, but that lacking is always going to be a thing.
At least until I'm in a committed relationship
Though that that ship may well have sailed and all I have left is a dock with no ships to sail.
This is a swear, again. And maybe a little slamming of fist upon shelf.
You can guess which ones and you'd be right at least once.
Well, the quarter's coming to an end, it's been good, time travel not withstnding.
Kuunonnii ghosts and subscribers.
Women can be doorknobs too.
And I saw that firsthand today.
Though they could have just been chucking them at me?
Still.
Wow, rude much?
That's my nickel anyway. Someone else might say I'm just sensitive.
To which I say, no.
They're wrong.
Oh well, it's not like I'm around for long anyway adn I wasn't about to look for anything from them, I was just having conversations and they didn't care for moments of that with me.
I do have to say that I know which one I would consider the worst chucker of doorknobs is but that's really neither here nor there.
Oh that was not nice Mr. Writer Man.
Deserving, but still not nice.
And wouldn't you like to know what that's about.
Of course, byt the time anyone asked, I'd have forgotten.
It was a nasty littl poem opening about one one of the women chucking doorknobs at me.
As I said deserving of her in the moment, but not nice.
So I didn't write it and have forgotten what the words were that poured out of my mind.
Do I have another 2541 words in me, before the night ends?
That's how many words I am away from 4000, as of the last count, which means it's already out of date, though not by much.
Maybe I should bring out a little storying, like I did two night ago, though that storm is over, it left an effect on my landscape.
Yay emotional pathos.
At least I made good use of it.
And again, if I just make it past a million words by two
thousand, I will have that pathos to thank for it because it will be the reason that I millionized the year.
I'd want to thank her for that, but there's no telling if or when I'll be having any contact with her again, which is a shame.
Human emotions eh?
Sadly, I need mine for the arts and the enjoyment of life but if I didn't, I might be happier, even though I wouldn't know it.
Now about that story
There's more to this story of course, but this felt like the right time to stop and do some easy writing as I just had an idea about what's going to happen after this conversation between the two alternates, one a great success and the other not.
Which is how I've envisioned my own meeting with a hypothetical alternate self. I would hope that I am not the most successful alternate version of myself, if such a thing there is.
This is the last page that I'll be using tonight.
In fact, I could stop the writing now because I've written about as much as I'm going and sadly, the much that I wrote wasn't enough to get me to the harvest of three fields.
I fell just a little short.
But it won't stop me from having a 20 harvest field week, so I ain't down in the mouth about this particular failing.
Not after back to back 4 field days.
What did you think of today's writing subscribers? The ghosts are not at all forthcoming so I can only hope that you are.
In your own time of course, I am thankful for the five of you who were bold enough to do this thing that is apparently all but impossible to do.
Kuanonnii.