Cryptic, God, very cryptic. I ask for signs and I get 1111 and cash registers. But, Sunday, the first day without a wakeup chime, I finally got it. 1111 = One. You know the rest.
Nice job, by the way.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Random thoughts about writing and life, not necessarily in that order.
About Me
- sterlingwriter
- It's never too late to start on your dreams. I neglected (atrophied) my love of writing for (ahem) decades, but found it again and am having the time of my life.
What I'm reading
- Little, Big by John Crowley
- Tales from the Morgue by Dr. Stephen D. Cohle
3 comments:
Crawling out from my oubliette to say hi.
Wait... what does it mean? Am I on drugs that I don't get it?
I'm going to withhold my dues this year until I get kicked out of GRRRWA. Just to be a PIA.
Two years in a row? We have a high tolerance level.
One=God=me (or you)
I'm reading Conversations with God so, unless you want to be browbeaten with opinions of what is wrong with organized religion, talk to me about other subjects. Like RT and cover models.
Or PBS's all Austen productions.
Or Colin Firth.
Or Clive Owen.
Or soup.
Post a Comment