Deconstructing aims to their most basic of elements.

Pushing self, today.  Like I haven’t.

Moving quicker, writing down more.  Not distracted.  Share everything with the page and follow ideas down whatever rabbit’s hole-like passage they present.

Anything but hapless.  Following poetic hues and hones.  Writer in a tech office, the story… this office and the people around me, the sounds and activity, contained electricity.  I’m moved and forwarded, visibly.

Have some time to collect now, at desk in quiet.  Over the only cup of coffee for the day.  Water for remainder.  Aim is 4 #pozvibez containers for the day, which is about two glasses per fill.  Need more water in my routine and day route, always.  And more verse, more music… again, the most basic and fundamental of composition.

Sensible surrender, to self and the moment I’m in.  I’m definitely a different voice and speaker, thinker, writer, writer in a tech office, this morning.  No known definition, but I’m just sensibly surrendered to the moment, to myself, the scene around me and not wishing it any other way.  Too many times I hear people grieve and long for what’s not present rather than celebrating what it.  Why… why do we do that to ourselves?  Nothing is done, nothing is brought to fruition with such delirious desideratum.  It takes us nowhere.

Writing notes to self, one reading “Madly escalate and amplify all efforts and motions.’ Doing so.  With everything.  Like when I speak of wine, I will speak of everything in that volume and beat… these sunglasses, my keys, the services and products of this company.  Moving at supersonic sense and sensibility, and not surrendering to anything outside my book’s cover.

In 8 hours, my story will have elected new altitude, new tracks and voice.  We’re past redaction, today, but already in the hands of readers, for the entirety of the cosmos.