![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceJack-hammers to the left of him, clarinets to the right of him...
There are building-works up the road, that is, and the noise of that echoes through the basement here to make an utter joke of the Silence Room; and there are music exams just across the hallway, children doing excruciating things to Greensleeves, and ditto ditto. With both going on at once, I feel like an orange-pip squeezed between two heedless fingers.
And keep thinking about going home and making marmalade, giving up entirely. It's not like I know what's happening anyway, with this damn book. She is discovered, and no one gives a damn. I must look elsewhere, apparently, for my climax. Maybe a walk would help. But maybe that's an excuse, or the racket is. Maybe I should just sit here and grind away. Little by little. Don't nobody call me Eric.
EtA: oh, ffs. The jack-hammer is right the other side of the wall now. This is impossible. *lights out for the territory*
There are building-works up the road, that is, and the noise of that echoes through the basement here to make an utter joke of the Silence Room; and there are music exams just across the hallway, children doing excruciating things to Greensleeves, and ditto ditto. With both going on at once, I feel like an orange-pip squeezed between two heedless fingers.
And keep thinking about going home and making marmalade, giving up entirely. It's not like I know what's happening anyway, with this damn book. She is discovered, and no one gives a damn. I must look elsewhere, apparently, for my climax. Maybe a walk would help. But maybe that's an excuse, or the racket is. Maybe I should just sit here and grind away. Little by little. Don't nobody call me Eric.
EtA: oh, ffs. The jack-hammer is right the other side of the wall now. This is impossible. *lights out for the territory*