Dubious Hermitage

So much code/design study, I have to set a timer to break away or I will break my face. As I hack along, a random New Yorker texts me, pries for information, and before I know it—this guy turns out to be a web developer, someone I can barrage with questions all things CSS, jQuery, all of it… Strange how people fall out of the sky.

The timer chimes. Get up from chair. Go do something. Something else. Ironically, I find yet another apropos article. Eyes pained, stinging. Mind racing. Words flowing again. Body soreness is a soaring economy causing me some increasing concern: Pain is a promise.

I stir about in my rejuvenated car… “Reliable transportation!” I fire off officially in emails into the job pit. If a good team will hire me, we will put heads together and create something beautiful, efficiently. I just know it.

Ready for a new world.

Hell, I’m not even really bound to Houston. I can do what I do anywhere and I’ll be fine—at least until my spirits sink and I feel the need to be around the verdure of people again. Then what breed shall I find adequate?

This little apartment feels like a hermitage, one I’ve made from a game plan and the times, the circumstances: Me; cats; lady friend; books; movies—not in heretical order.

tea
headaches

an air conditioner
struggling in servitude

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