Viewpoint: since an early age, you loved words. Every living moment spent over a book until you could piece together some sentences of your own.
And you kept working, across the years, some under the duress of being unrecognized and unappreciated.
But you kept working.
Tonight, this is your night. After so many years, finally the Irish Poetry Society has given its explicit blessing…
AND THIS FUCK DECIDES IT’S CROUCHING TIME.
He is discrete. Just not discreet.
I’m very pedantic about spelling and homophones, I love puns, and I took an upper-division Discrete Math class in college, and yet I still never realized that “discrete” and “discreet” are two different words.
Ah, the old curse of sound engineers. They want you to be there to immediately react to sound problems, while wanting you not to be seen in any way.
Maybe they should build you a tiny hut to scurry out of when needed?
That would be nice. Add one of those hamster style drinking setups, maybe throw a couple of treats into the dark every now and then.
who’s a good sound engineer? who’s a good little sound engineer? YOU ARE!
