3:45pm.

Kids playing, me in corner collecting.  Easy Saturday, planning for writing and wine tonight…. More music, searching for new tracks.  Get new poems done.

Dinner tonight with Dad.  Planning on running by him business ideas and certain financial questions.

Finally another still in the day.  LoFi beats playing.  Know none of these tracks by name or artist, just recognize some of the beats and sounds by their helix.

Trouble writing anything, not a block or stop, pause or lull, just a slowing of expression.  Poetry coming back to me today in a way it before hasn’t.  Weather odd still, unplanned gusts and wind-shoves reminding me of the days I was the field sales supervisor.  This one day in particular, Sunset District SF where the wind was so forceful it was actually quite impeding in my movement and execution of position obligations.

Debating whether to have coffee or a beer.  The beer sounds more pattern-consistent with this current mood and demeanor.  Clean my consciousness, become some sort of believer.  And at my age….  This desk, its small stature and edges that remind me of cliffs.  Put wallet or phone too close, then fall. 

A beer, in a hotel lobby, after reading one day, on a trip, somewhere.  Hoping New York, or Oregon, somewhere near Washington’s wine country.

Thinking while washing hands just now about the material in everything.  I say Magic of the Meta every semester, but more than that.  There is no reason to not write and no reason to pull from  what’s around you for new ideas… business, writing, creative, changing your life and habit pattern in some way, anything.

Pen on desk, near edge, reminding me to take more notes.  Like students, seeing their comp books full, filling.