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Friday, August 22, 2014

the Office

Right there on that beach blanket cobbled together from my husband's old blue jeans. I have a radio plugged in, books and papers and stuff strewn along the edge, stuff weighted down with sweaty bottles of whatever.

I stand in the water, armpit deep, and scribble long hand on whatever paper is laying around. The next morning I sit at the computer and decipher the scribbling.

It's been going good lately and I'm wondering how this is going to work over at the public pool during the winter months. I'll probably have to go back to writing in the car.
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"She watches him play chess in the park with strangers. He is ruthless, but he loses as often as he wins.

"Why don't you read the other player?" she said.

"It wouldn't matter. Chess is a game of skill. There is no chance involved. The only way to lose is to let your emotions get in the way of logic. It happens, but the fight is always fair. Like at the track. No matter what the jockeys may want it's always up to the horses."



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