Semester ending this week.  English 100 tomorrow.  End of weekend, and so what it doesn’t matter I’ve been working at, away at, some project Friday and yesterday anyway.  Now, before bed, I’m seeing my office as more than mandated and decreed now, since today on an errand with little Kerouac telling him that one day I’ll have—one day soon—my own office and he can come play video games and help daddy tell stories.  This is all a story, I’ve always known but today spending as much time with little Kerouac and Ms. Austen as I did I see my narrative in more fixed amenity.  Being taught by them and by the day.

On new couch, writing for first time, jazz, one more beer….  4am again targeted.  If I do rise and fly when alarm cries, go straight to the coffee I made… that’ll help the writer be brighter.

Home from Katie’s, only having a sip of a wine I’ve never had… not telling me much but the thoughts go everywhere with its everything.  Notes and random chord changes, like this track, “Big Paul” by Burrell and Coltrane.  Everything explained…

…will run from this street, this Autumn Walk horseshoe Drive.  Head up San Miguel, left on Coffey, then back.  Short run, today.  Then more words, then jazz, the new couch, what’s the first thing I’ll write while on it sitting.  What thought will materialize and actualize from those new and unfamiliar seats, cushions.  When I first moved into this house, I saw it with a concerned and cornered eye.  Not sure how to write in the walls— a new house, thinking Do I write differently? And how do I interpret what’s around me.  Not sure where I’m going in this thought walk, but there I am, here I am, again… where I am and what I’m doing.  Running from one sentence to the next, encouraged by Coltrane, his track right now, the fact that I’m writing in this house, still, even past whatever thoughts I had on writing in the house and the spinning spell of that meta….  Present in this identity, seat, roll in thoughts and repeat.

“All Mornin’ Long”, which features Coltrane, is freeing and like an audible freewrite.  If you listen, you’ll sense the liberation and noted pleasure escalation within the music itself.  Coltrane, speaking then letting the other speak.  Not sure who’s on trumpet, but I miss the sax…


Up and going after company party last night, and studying today before it truly lands.  Today.  Daughter’s third birthday.  Where I am and what I’m doing, a dad, with a daughter and son that sing to me and teach me about the day before and after it happens or lands, and what flies next in this writer’s story.

Coltrane playing, me alone in home, in new Sonic sweater/jacket/hoodie.  Not sure what to call it but I love this thing.  This kitchen, now where I sit, a nidus for notes and new ideas.   We, knowing Now, pages and pages, FREE.  My new thesis for this blog yes but for self as well.  Studying where you are, the immediacy and why you’re there.

Think of nothing else but the Now, where you are.  Up in morning, don’t over-measure or forecast what’s ahead of you in the nominal hours.  They’re your hours, your points of meditation and growth.