nikki.lol

It’s a black virus wending its way through your veins or a vicious storm on the sea’s horizon threatening the small, wooden boat you just finished building.

I’ve been quiet here on my blog this week.

I know it’s not good to write about politics or religion.

I’ve written a post a day for over a month now.

She knew Colorado would be cold this time of year.

The rain pounds outside.

“I like my coffee black.

I got back on OK Cupid again today.

I was going to write about the time I spent on a ranch in California but, as I began to write it this evening, I realized that deserved more time than I want to give to this post tonight.

Thursday 28 October 1999 8:45 in the morning Well, I guess I’m in Pioneer, California, sitting at Amador Station off of Highway 88.

This morning, Jen over at Jen’s Life (I adore her URL), responded to a comment I had made on her post.

Anya shifted in the steel chair, arched her back and tilted her head from one shoulder to the other.

There are days when the words won’t flow.

There are two fears that loom large in my life.

The headaches were the worst part.

This past week has been one full of movies and television shows.

They say that every good crime story has an inciting incident.

I’m totally going to punch it in today.

Death is coming for me.

A Tuesday afternoon and I’m still in my pajamas.

Last night, when I came home from meeting my eleven week old nephew for the first time (so small!

I almost didn’t write here this morning.

Funny story from tonight.

i Note This is a flash fiction challenge.

I’m up early today.

I’ve been meaning to write about debt.

The start of the week is today, a Tuesday, after having the MLK holiday off yesterday.

What to say?

✦ Tidbit The writing prompt: Write about a desperate copy editor who takes a job at a publishing company only to find out on his or her first day that the company publishes either (a) hardcore pornographic novels or (b) how-to handbooks for demons and oth…

I think I’m getting sick.

I work from home on Wednesdays.

One of the worst things is the blank page.

I made a goal on New Year’s Eve to write 750 words (roughly three pages) every day.

The bear is awakening again.

I’m bundled up—fingerless gloves and an infinity scarf, puffy jacket and heavy boots—sitting in front of my computer at work.

I bought a frozen pizza at the grocery store tonight.

I’ve been programming, in some capacity or another, since I was eight years old.

I live about 20 miles outside the center of Boston.

My memory is a ghost.

A few years ago, I read a book by Stephen Greenblatt called The Swerve: How the World Became Modern.

I can’t remember where I heard or read it but disappointment is the difference between your expectations and reality.

I am a roiling sea.

I’ve had a rough week.

I was going to start off this post by writing about how we live in a pervasive culture of you are better than you think you are and how detrimental that can be.

One of the things I want to accomplish with Findom1 is a return to basics.

As a kid and young adult, I spent a lot of time outdoors.

If you’re a fan of Casey Neistat, you’ve probably heard of Tom Sachs (Neistat was an intern for the artist between 2001 and 2004).

I’ve hesitated about keeping a steady online blog because it is at odds with the thinking that A) I’m not special, B) it’s all been done before, and C) I’m remarkably concerned about security and privacy.

I carry a notebook with me everywhere, which even the phone isn’t privileged enough to get (I actually forgot it at home this past Thursday).

Morning comes early for me.