settling down, slowing, readying for bed. Such a responsible thing to do. But I’m going to meditate a bit further on the day, think of that walk at lunch, the pause when off the clock sipping the Chardonnay, looking down-valley. I was collected, just talking to the breeze that encouragingly accosted me. IT, was auditory poetry, like a saxophone, like paintbrush percussion about my receptive drums. I have the same cosmic speak here in the Autumn Walk Studio. I hear myself laughing, but not heard to others, just to me— me, my own audience, and it’s a laugh I need to hear from me, to again faith in self, to know I’m Human, that I can be happy, that I can travel, that I can answer a whim’s grin. Now I realize time shouldn’t matter, that it doesn’t matter, that I need to just write and throw myself into the plainest of moments and make them growl in antithetical inviolableness. I can’t settle, I can’t just be put, put anywhere, in any role, not when my thoughts are going this fast— huh, you’d think I was sipping my medium roast (which I just brewed, 2 cup, set into tumbler for morrow) rather than this ’12 Nicole’s. Yes, I opened one, as I don’t have any “everyday wine” to pop. Shit, need to go shopping. But I don’t want to spend a ton on wine. Need get new clothes, put me more in the adornment of a fashionable professor, and not so I can look good to others no so I can be pleased myself with my own shell, which I haven’t of late been. No issues to speak of, just want to look nice, and only to me, seriously. Today’s set, not bad— Dutcher Crossing grey/marble/granulated hue shirt, paired with my usual khakis, my black loafers. Shirt I don’t have much qualm with, but pants and shoes I much do. I’ll address this more in future lines just now know I’m shifting with my attire, intentions, and “image”.