No one in yet.  Not one person.  May walk around the square, or get lunch early.

Everyone walking around in masks, still can’t get used to it.  No one allowed to taste in her so I took off mine.  Jotted notes for article, or essay, in journal.

Still feeling antsy and have no idea what the actual catalyst is.  Write about it… anxiety.  Is it covid?  Is it work, my freelance projects?

Cool in here, almost cold.

Guy walks by, mask.

Three people walk by with dog.  MASK.

What happened to the world.  And no, I don’t have a problem with masks.  I support them.  Just… the world.  Not the world.

I need a beer, a sandwich, not what I packed. Fuck, and now that’s going to give me anxiety to.

Nevermind this world, what is this ME?

I don’t know him.

Then I switch struts.  Be the fuck-it writer.  Here I am.  Hunter S. Thompson… need wine.  Be the HST of wine, and wine writing.  Wife’s sister told me to blog about wine.  And I did, but then didn’t, then did a bit and nothing happened then what the fuck did I write who cares I’m here now and like this.

Quitting copywriting for people.  DONE.

Just writing for me.  I like my writing… I’m a fan.  So… new day.. wine and music, my kids, running… HAPPINESS.  More than that, living.

1:11… wish made.  Not sure if I was supposed to, or it that’s “a thing” like people say, but I did.

No one wanting to taste wine.  Fine with me, I write.  Just feel bad for my friend Chris, that people aren’t buying.  They did yesterday.  Maybe it’s Sunday… maybe today the Square folk and those visiting just want to walk around, have lunch, and walk some more. Look around, distance themselves from thoughts of Monday as much as they can.  Should take a lesson, myself.