Self2Note — pulled, pushed, pulled.. period

Closing blog’s efforts for day.  Not “posting” 1 thousand about what I did today, although I did finally get my 2009 Nicole’s allocation from Lancaster, about which I’m frantically vitalized.  Not going to get to reading tonight, my book.  Will, however, tomorrow night, just before collecting the 1A’s research papers.  I’ll do so in that instructor’s lounge.  Saw some ft-ers in there today, when I went in to sign my eval.  They must have been solving so much, planning so beneficially for students, I’m sure–  Tonight, just want to write in the new journal.  Only poem..  Should be quite cold tomorrow morning, as it was this, with that thick reminder slab of coldness on censored windshield.

Enough wine in house, now, I think.  At left while I type, this Lagunitas “Little Sumpin’.” Like this beer, quite.  Looking at my book, over there on entry way’s skinny ledge, if that’s what it’s called [I don’t know, I’m not a carpenter].  Feel like a negligent parent.  I should at least read the first page of my 50,000 word Literary footprint.  Why don’t I?  Why am I afraid?  Do I want to be a writer?  Latter question reminds me of when the insurance agent, Roger, circa 2002 [maybe -3], left a note on my desk after making a mistake on a policy app: “Do you want to write insurance?” Should have written one back to him, citing something to angle of: “No, moron.  Why would I want to do that?” May be typing with 2much honesty, but that’s what I felt, then.  Still do now, really.

The journal, competing for attention.  Find Self in real writer rippings.  Need sip…  Nice.  Chilled.  Not too obnoxious with approach, as some IPA’s and ales are.  Looking through old phone’s pictures… so many.  And again, they tell something.  Where I’ve been, what I’ve noticed.  But I’m hoping to do the same with writing.  THAT would be my “genre” [hate that word].  This beer, filling me further, after Alice’s generous dinner.. have to sip slow, enjoy.

Enjoy.. want to do just that with this beautiful new journal.  So I will.  The young lady who rang me, said “Wow, this is a really nice journal.” Only minutes before, she directed me to their lot on floor, their shelves, after I asked [not being able to them locate in former locale].  I at it look now.. the most amative log I’ve ever possessed.

Connecting.  Now.

12/18/12, Tuesday [less that 2 days left, huh]