9:16, and writing on the floor, poised for bed.  Early tomorrow with leads group.  Hopefully a run at some point tomorrow.  When… not thinking about that now.  Ideas for a blog, then another, then a book, then wellness, then self-improvement something or…. Dad’s stories, about the flight where everything that could go wrong did.  He argues it’s not writing but a report and that if he had to expand upon all the points it’d be over ten pages then me responding why not.  More and more I appreciate the cruel curtness of life.

Watching news, weather changing… Spring coming, maybe, not sure but the news says so.  What will the impact be on me, my re-write, my sight, everything in this story.  Event tonight with people speaking of me as some noted speaker, and I tell them NO (kindly)… I’m a writer. I speak like everyone does, or can, but I write. Was humbled, and gave an intro about the speakers group, then had tacos and only one beer. I say ‘only’ as you might think this beatnik would have two, or follow the first with a glass of whatever that dive pours.  NO…. calm and balance, ZEN in the re-write.

Further into my zen studies, practice and acknowledgement of character consolidation, temperament, time, collection, composition… like now, with me on floor, back against bed, news on only for that “white noise” effect. I’ll be honest, not looking forward to waking as early as I have to with this leads group, but I will.  Re-write, of everything.  No need for permission, no need for any angst or anger, pessimism or edgy post.

This re-write of self isn’t to appease anyone, not even self, or apologize for anything, but to lift stages of Self, and understand the character and narrative note with more namesake and communicative property.