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authorCase Duckworth2015-04-14 16:36:17 -0700
committerCase Duckworth2015-04-14 16:36:17 -0700
commit9fce418b46c9f0894f429384ef9e3dabaeffbeb4 (patch)
treeb2339220ee50cf48b8887f0cc1fed4813a95901b /text/shed.txt
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Change file hierarchy and rewrite makefile
- File hierarchy is now as follows:
    - /
        - appendix/  < appendix source files
        - backlinks/ < backlink sources & builds
        - hapax/     < *.hapax source files
        - scripts/   < scripts, like *.js, *.hs, etc.
        - templates/ < templates for outputs
        - text/      < source files
        - trunk/     < assets, like css, images, heads, etc.
        - index.html
        - *.html
        - Makefile
Diffstat (limited to 'text/shed.txt')
-rw-r--r--text/shed.txt46
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diff --git a/text/shed.txt b/text/shed.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..832291d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/shed.txt
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1---
2title: Shed
3genre: prose
4
5id: shed
6toc: "Shed"
7
8project:
9 title: "Buildings out of air: Paul in the Woods"
10 class: paul
11 order: 9
12 next:
13 - title: Hands
14 link: hands
15 - title: Snow
16 link: snow
17 prev:
18 - title: Notes
19 link: notes
20 - title: Sapling
21 link: sapling
22...
23
24"What do you do all day in that shed out back" his mother asked one night while they ate dinner in front of the TV.
25"Write" he answered.
26"Write what" she asked in that way that means he'd better not say I don't know.
27"I don't know" he said.
28
29"Goddammit Paul" his mother said.
30"You're [wasting your life][] out in that shed.
31You need to go out and get---"
32"I chop down trees too" he said.
33"I make furniture out of them."
34His mother's face did a Hitchcock zoom as she considered this new information.
35"Is it any good" she asked, eyes narrowed.
36
37"It's getting there" he answered.
38"I'm getting better every day."
39"When is it going to be there" she asked.
40"When are you going to sell [this furniture][] of yours?"
41"It'll be a while" he answered.
42
43"Then you'd better get a job until then" she said.
44
45[wasting your life]: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/177229
46[this furniture]: real-writer.html