a prompt response
I have it all right here with me: every word of the story waiting to be yanked out of the ether and transformed into the easily consumable media to which we’ve all grown accustomed. I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my time if there was actual work to do.
I’m good at the actual work.
Yeah, it’s all done: this hobbyhorse is shod and tacked. It’s ready to be ridden across the open range of someone else’s imagination. But my laziness – an orange-eyed monster whose skin fits me so well – he keeps convincing me that there’s something else to do, that the sequence starts earlier, that I should sit still and wait. The answers will come to me.
We all know this isn’t true. At the very least, it’s an inefficient way to live a life worth reading.