…The day. The crazy. And it always is. Little Kerouac upstairs, asleep to his mama’s right. Was going to wake them, but no way did this writer have the heart for so. Technically, I’m “behind schedule”, waking when I did, near 7:30 [now, time is exactly that], and just sitting for coffee. Responsible thing would be to get in shower– In my reinvention, I’m not interested in the ‘being responsible’. At all.
First sight when up, looking left, looking out and through shudders, seeing two tall green trees that appears to be just more extending than the fence, but they’re some distance away. Not sure why they spoke to me as they did, but it was my first image of the day and it needed to be logged.
Hear them stirring upstairs, Alice at least, and the little Artist won’t be far behind. Run after work, Lawndale, must happen. Didn’t count the publishing funds as I wanted. Maybe tonight. Or whenever. Mother’s Day tomorrow. Why just one day? Why not all days? That’s what my mama deserves…