Still haven’t had any coffee.  Not one drop.  Part of me wishes for a latte, but that wish and that side of me will go away as soon as the first sip is had, I’m sure.

9:32.  Team gets here shortly.  Coffee at right.  Today, of observation.  Collecting thought and thoughts in what I see, where I am.  I’m more than calm or composed, but in pages, far into the pages I write and the ones I I haven’t written that for the moment stay thoughts.

Don’t know what to do, what to write…. My son this morning telling me he’s so excited to spend time with one of his friends, that grownups have to “do jobs and kids have play jobs”, he cites and takes time to be deliberate with his thoughts.  Emma on the floor of his room this morning reading a book, going page by page, slowly, examining each image and how the characters interact with the other.  She reads to herself then to her brother, then to me, then picks out another book.

9:36 and I feel the coffee already.  Jazz in my head and soon I the car I take from the lot to transport me to SF.  This twelfth day, new year, I think this could be when discipline takes on a topic, or I make it a topic, write a book on it.  Discipline to the point of no Starbucks, no eating lunch in SF, writing in car, running tonight at gym more than the meek 4.45 miles I somehow put out under that incendiary bulb.  Why didn’t I see that there, where the treadmill was.  Didn’t I notice that it was strangely more highlighted and on-stage than the other belts?

Today, new.  New book, new Mike Madigan in character and story, such thesis to me and what I do wherever I am.

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