9:58pm

Woke up just a shadow after 5 this morning.  No mood to write.  Sipping water now after only a bit of wine and craft beer.  Need to finish a book, that dream, or dreams, last night, this morning motioned.  In the city today, in the 10-month office of that startup, having me wound in thought like hyperactive cat, or something.  Not sure what I’m thinking right now, tired as I am.  Just knowing I need to finish my the book, or not—yeah, maybe I don’t.  Maybe I just need to post more.  To this very fucking blog.  Put everything into the world, every thought.  A book will come later, won’t it?  I’m tired and shouldn’t be writing.  Just before 10, should just go to bed so I’m assured a run at lunch tomorrow.  Need one, after how I ate today… the breakfast burrito, then that Italian chicken sandwich in Novato… then pasta for dinner, and a dessert (which wasn’t too heavy and crazy).  I know, it’s the exhaustion that has me overthinking.  SO, bed, writer. Go to fucking sleep.  If you want that office in Healdsburg, or the city, or offices in multiple towns like the show shop you met today, with two spots in NYC and one in Australia?  Or was it two in Australia?  One in NY?  Bed…  Couple more sips of the iced water…

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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