No 3 pages yesterday.  I feel failed.  But I can’t look at it that way.  I deserved the lazy nature of last night.  But tonight, my pages will be written.  Back in classRoom, Monday.  I can barely wait.  Today, in res’ room.  Thought it was yesterday but I was pleased when one of the other workers, Kat, in formed me, “Well, Mikey, looks like it’s me!” she said, floating around the tasting room with her always-sweet, bright revolution to even the sourest of moments.  And now, I’m here, with my second cup.  Walk with Dad today, as we didn’t have time yesterday after work.

Last night, sipped the ’11 Anthem from my sister’s winery.  I quite liked it, actually.  Maybe too much, getting through much of the bottle, but over several hours, so I’m not too injured this morning.


No wine or beer today, tonight.  I need these three pages DONE.  A friend of mine messaged me last night, telling me she was headed to sleep, around the minute of 8:46PM, I believe I correctly recall.  If I would have done that, I would have been able to rise at Hemingway’s and Plath’s magic hour of 5AM.  But I can’t think ‘what if I, what if I’.  I just know what I will do, what I will do.


I will confess, right here on this page, that I’m contemplating leaving early today.  Making up some excuse.  To come home and write for a bit before Dad’s and my saunter through the woods like Emerson & Thoreau.  But I won’t.  I’m going to make it work for me, that bloody room. Need to get my coffee…


8:49AM–  preparing for departure, Mike thought it interesting how quiet it seemed in his apartment.  He couldn’t explain his feeling in writing.  And he didn’t want to.  He wanted to ingest it, throw himself into the day’s chaos from such a comfortable and contained peace.

And he would.


He did.