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birdmad
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i woke up with a strange feeling inside my head and have spent the day milling about through the office wondering if maybe i'm dead and my ghost didn't know any better than to show up to work.
lit the cigarette out in the breezeway and as a delivery truck drove through and dragged the smoke in its wake i watchedit twist and curl as it dissipated
dry bougainvilleia petals, bright, magenta but still quite dead swirled in the thermal that rose from the sunny patch of concrete. i needed a cup of coffee.
hours spent entering data, tracking down contracts and addenda, supervising the temps and a few minutes here and there doing nothing, aimlessly.
as i prepare to shut down for the night and go home, i look at my recollection of today as i perceived it and for some reason it seems (in sort of a good way) like the handiwork of a drunken cinematographer
a host of little things buried in the mundane details.
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011205
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