Boeing 767-400 Alt 7,700 ft 229mph
ESTeastern standard time.
east coast. est arrival 7:03pm.
why,when we finally rid our universe of time zones, is it only for two hours and 840 miles south of where we need to be? ive been fighting time zones for a year now: mtn standard time, and pacific standard time. 2 hours, 3 hours, soon to be six. fucking A, what does a writer have to do to get her baby, in the same room, the same state, the same time? ive written every word, in ever concievable way, rearranged sentences and fragmented thoughts; i have run paragraphs the lengths of months across the page. But still i fight the time zones that i cant touch, but are still too real to ignore.
i hate time zones and drug fee zones and hazardous work zones, everything is fucking zoned and penciled out on some fucking blue print that i cant write on, i just keep staring at it, lines and numbers, criss-crossed and erased and bold-typed, looking for pattern, i cant even run my fingers over the etched outline, because this blue print that i thought i created is suddenly behind bullet proof glass, and i packed up my gun a long time ago, and ummm, yeah, its behind bullet proof glass. So i watch and study an invisible hand draw lines and electrical details and architectual nightmares on my, my fucking blueprint. Its hard to keep creating, when someone stole your pen and decided your plan needed protection from you.
posted by swordpoet @ 4:08 PM
<< Home