Head down. Nose grinding.
Must have the picture book trilogy polished to brilliant cut diamond standards by then. Gotta make something happen. Gotta do it. Gotta do it.
Visualizing a bullet train. No derailing. Kinda like the Polar Express, only without all those strange elves and the ho-ho guy. (The Hostess plant is closing, dontcha know, although there are rumors that someone is going to buy it because god knows we all need more sugar and would die if the Ho-Ho-Twinkie plant was overgrown by kudzu.)
Back to the train. I won’t be settling for a used sleigh bell. Got holes in my pockets those will fall through. Need something much bigger. Something that helps pay the rent–at least one month’s worth in San Francisco. No small potatoes.