Home from class.  Tired and hungry and not looking forward to leads group in morning.  Don’t think about it, I tell myself.  No more peanuts, have actual dinner.  Even though I’m only in the mood to snack.

Finished other half of Cubano from the Gilman brewery, and the Bear Republic beer I finally opened up, canned.  Thought, I want to really test self, both in discipline and every day and night notes, practice.  So, reasoning… 100 Days of No.

Beer.

Meat.

Dessert.

Starbucks or any other coffee I pay for at some devilish shop.

TV at night.

Lunching out at work.  Meaning, MEALPLAN.

Want to change my character, as I read others doing.  Right now, no TV.  And no dessert.  Just words.  Shit, so that means no Peet’s tomorrow morning, no fucking latte.  Can I do that. Demanded.  Breaking pattern to see differently, to be another character.  Just thought of another NO…

BEER.

No more.  I’ll keep wine there.  Needed, given certain business interests and connections, stories and writing and what be.

Playing with character, MY character.  See what happens.  No so much to see what happens but analyze and study the progressions and effects.  This’ll be a class unto itself.  Where I study the character and form, vocals and narrative, STORY of Mike Madigan as I do with the English 1B sections this semester.  Need name for the project.  And not just the NO project.  Or maybe that should be it.  Not like the whole fucking Nancy Reagan ‘Just say no.’ shit, but a nod to yes rather than no.  To gain more than loss or giving something up.

the NO project… starting tomorrow.  But tonight too.  No dessert, but a glass of wine then bed.  Make coffee in morning.  And for one hundred fucking days.  It’s the story I’ve decided to direct and write, live and promise.