Paying for the wine and champagne this morning, just touching down at work. Have some editing to do, post to owner’s blog, and other projects. Ready for the day, in fact altogether eager to get it off the ground, but not moving fast. Sipping the 4-shotter (mocha) slow, but with steady thesis. Will write throughout the day… try to pocket as much story as I can. Right now, having the laptop read Debra’s post to me. Too tired to critically read. I’ll wake up, and become more lively, alive, one of the living as the day on goes.
Want to wake early like I did Tuesday and run, or write, or both. If I would have risen so this morning, who knows how much I’d have written— Been stressing about publishing vs. sticking to blog, or what I mean is printing asking myself ‘should I print and if so how much..’ Interesting, as yesterday I wrote about not thinking so much and here I overthinking my overthought which pushes me over patience’s edge. Ugh… consolidate, idiot!
quote for day: “In one kiss,/you’ll know all/I haven’t said.” -Pablo Neruda
These pages are my kisses, what I don’t say. And frankly, as many of you know, I’d rather write than talk anyway. And I love anyone who takes the time to read my kisses, my days and minutes and moments. This is more pure me than if you asked me to tell you about me, about my life and what I do, what I want to do and where I want to go. 9:49 now, almost done with mocha, the wine’s voice barely anymore heard. So I quicker move, need more French, any French for the day, a single word— ‘bisou’, meaning kiss. As in ‘a’ kiss, not TO kiss, which would be baiser. Next step in my learning French, verb conjugation. Along with all else I have going, but learning French, part of my story. Has to be.