There is not much time to talk. Words are like gold that drips from my fingertips as they tap the keys on the laptop, that is not sitting on my lap, but is instead resting comfortably on a desk in a poorly lit section of a room- a room that is divided in half- one section office/writing area and the other guest room, that is still in the process of being completed. It is functional, but not complete.

But alas, that dogs think they need to go out again- when do they think they don’t need to go out.

Out-going out. I wish that I could go out…not to work. I do to much of that already, no. I want to go out on the town- though there isn’t much to do in this town – what I mean to say, is that I’d like to go out and do something random, something where I can damn the consequences- just because. But am I doing this already?

Isn’t this what writing is all about? – there is a little black and white dog that insists on being on my lap. This makes it hard to write- and she just jumped down….

Now where was I, rubber ducks. I love rubber ducks. I think they’re cute. I don’t care much for regular ducks. They’re okay…. Penguins now, I love penguins. Especially the short fat ones. They’re cute when they wabble. But of course, my favorite animal is dogs. I even like the short annoying ones, they’re not bad dogs…though they’re not overly friendly if they don’t know you. I believe that….

Ha Ha- my wife just said I was funny. I know that one day my natural talent would be recognized- though I’m not quite ready to go on tour yet.

But this is all I have time for…. these randoms blurbs that are either pure gold crisp apples, ready for consumption or else pure rot, fit for nothing but the garbage can.

Sincerely,

Richard Polk