Not quite

in the mood to write.  But I’ll get there.  Waiting for 4-shot mocha.  Thinking of the day’s goal..  Having one piece to sell.  Three, a reach-goal.  Didn’t wake at 4, no shock, and it’s affecting the writer’s disposition pervasively.  Have to snap out of it and be ready to write as soon as I get to the cottage, pound out three pages before noon like I did that one week, I think in July.

Now in car, rain.. Could listen to it all day and write.  Wish I could.  One day soon I’ll be doing just that looking down at the Healdsburg Square, typing for blog, book, some article I have due.  I have to let go of all stresses and anxienties, doubts and inhibition.  What propels me today is the day, that I’m alive and writing and able to just sit here and enjoy these drops on the roof of this aging Passat.  This more than simple motivation, or some self use of the term ‘self-awareness’.  This is an enveloping understanding of me, today, what I’m meant to do.  And I will do it.  

Now to start car.  Drive to winery.  Invite more story and creative positivism.