5/17/19

Too many kids in Starbucks so had no choice but to take the expensive, or more pricey route at Toast Eatery.  Place with a diner feel and a cute menu cover with a smiling toast piece offering a thumbs up.  Know I’ll regret this, or cite self for lack of discipline after.  Or I won’t.  I won’t. I need a new writing seat.  And hear I am.  Ordered the Denver om’ and a coke.  Asked the chap what he thought of the Denver.  He said it’s good, he loves it, one of his favorites.  Of course it is, I thought.  Well, mine too, no matter where I go.  Day elevating even further, knowing I can’t control how many people come to the door for the Reps.  But, I can offer insight, instruction and encouragement.  Realizing at this table against the wall I don’t control much.  None of us do.  And instead of fighting, love the fact that control is figment.  Imaginary.  Enjoy and write from the absence of containment.  And what we call, perceive as, control.

Pleased that I go to lunch alone.  Writing.  Feel my essential and immediate poet here, more than if I were to even find a seat or small wobbly shifty table at that juvenile den Starbucks next door.  Writing in SF as I want to.  Sip coke set it down. Hear something in the pan.  Either the peppers or onions to my Denver.  No idea.  Early tomorrow morning up for even in San Mateo.  Where I’m from.  Years and year ago, last, at Serra High School.  Can’t help but fixated on time and what it’s doing, how it moves with everything involuntarily moving with it.   It again, I let go, stop tries to tame and or tackle it.

Prince’s 1999 on, and I thing this is 20 years ago he sings of, and even earlier when he wrote and recorded.  This diner, designed when.

Plate here.  Small break.  Keeping screen on…

Simplistic appearance but a shapely cosmos of flavor riles and tells, turns and altitudes.  I’m refusing to let anything of me fade, none of my aims by addled or maladopted.

Taking momentary away from plate.  Thinking about driving back to Santa Rosa.  When do I leave.  When do I wake tomorrow morning.  Pack all running effects, tonight.  Tomorrow morning should be for me, more than for anything else.  Clothes out, write a little as soon as I. Up.  About waking early, before anyone else.  What earlier hours do to vision and understanding of the Now, of the self.

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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