7:16am – Up.

Henry still asleep, Jack as well.  Emma down here watching a cartoon.

Me, still tired and wanting more sleep but fighting it, unlike yesterday where I dropped into a nap.

Appointment again for HL at 10 I believe, weight check.

Going to do my times later, avowed.  Didn’t have much time to do them yesterday, or I did and just didn’t want to.

First cup nearly done, going right back to that machine and making more.  Have to, ‘cause now I’m stalled, stopped, stuck.  Nothing to write but the morning and how I’m not running as I want to, how the days are passing so fast it’s like time has a renewed and revived assault on ME.

7:24, second cup made.  Writing things I want done then crossing them off, as that’s what curses them usually.  You either actuate and materialize or you don’t, wouldn’t you say?  No one outside on street.  Warm in this room, odd.  Remembering dreams I had last night or early this morning then not.  What was that one character’s name….  Where did I meet her?  Maybe I should keep a journal by bed, that trite thing to do if one wants to write more.  Maybe I SHOULD embrace the role of student again but in a way I haven’t previously in taking notes and writing reactions while reading any text.  Starting with Sedaris.

One of the student during last week’s zooms, Tuesday, said she’d been doing homework all day.  My first time speaking with and seeing this student, and I could tell her attachment to her studies and pursuits was tireless.  Interesting, I thought.  What does the character want, how does she plan to get it, what does she think in the morning first right after waking and opening eyes, seeing whatever that first object is.

First sip from second cup….  Henry.  Another appointment.  He’s doing well with eating, or milk chugging, and sleep it seems.  Just went upstairs again and his senses are closed to the world or any world.  Already over a week old.  I notice him changing, how he looks around, moves, sounds from his chords and chest.  How that little chest expands, his breaths.  Then I think about my AE work and how I’m back on-duty a week from tomorrow.  Don’t want to think about it but I can’t help it knowing I’ll have to be back on soon battling the atmosphere of covid and how business is slow or in some times non-existent.  So I think not so much backup plan but shoving certain projects into fruition, and find more time to work on those assignments working solely form phone.  The phone is the corporate office, the HQ, I wrote the other day in Dad’s 1948 journal.  So there’s no excuse, ever.

Neighbor start his obnoxious pseudo-ultramasculine truck.  Annoyed with this street, or not so annoyed but bored with it.  The next house will be standalone, away from neighbors, and with some actual architecture to it.  This house, especially since HL arriving, closes in around us, reemphasizes its diminutive dimension.  I can’t help but think about it…. I’m reminded too often.  Not in a negative way or a way that says something about me or anyone else, just geometry.  Math.  There’s not enough room now for the amount of humans living here.

7:46, much more awake with this second cup.  To another project after this one.  Less, no more new… “turn what’s present into a producer”, I write.  Strafe any attitude internal or ex.  Charge forward with more words.  Not awake, or alive.  PLACED.

Je ne m’arrêterai jamais.  I will not stop, ever.