Up and moving… awkwardly.

8:25 and everyone still asleep.  Me as well sleeping in later than normal.

Coffee machine for reason decided to work last night.  So I have a full tumbler, going into emails, and notes….

Quiet.  Want to be in a different pattern today.  But how.  How can I do that.  For starters, get away from this desk.

Everything today, for tomorrow.  Waking before 5, starting work and having however many words I can write before light and into the earlier hours of morning when the sun’s up but you can tell just as exhausted and weary as you are.

Bike at 11, at least an hour, then taking Melissa’s car in at 1-something.  Hoping I don’t miss the sales meeting.  Don’t think I will.

Jackie awake, sniffling as he does and moving around like a groggy ogre.  Morning about to get disrupted a bit.  Aims set, not written though.  Not writing day-aims, or even as much paragraph as I do here.

More notes.. more observations, more recording of what’s been done rather than what I need do.

Quiet morning.  Not many talking over company chat, or email.  That’ll change, I know.


9:11pm – Readying for day’s close.  Waking early solely to write.  Seeing that early wake should be only for writing.  Like Barleycorn.

Tiring of this street, of Santa Rosa, Sonoma County… want my babies to see more. Freed from this box.  Opening another bottle in a sec, the last of my Desmond bottles.  Wil have to order a set soon, to write..

Tired, and wanting bed.  Make coffee for morning.  The next Pinot, not sure I’m in the mood.  Wine still boring me.  No bottle instructing, or inspiring, telling me to write or think or see one way or another.

Opened the ’14 Pinot and a new voice… new echo and childlike play to its hold momentary.

She orders me to stop writing, just sip and study, be place, on the floor, thinking, thinking about her, and what I’m living in each glass tilt.