Henry getting a feed, upstairs.

A bit closer to calm down here, but not in much significance.  Point plotted poignantly for day… journaling, a 500-word piece on wine, in some sort.  Send letter to other writer, record thoughts into phone by voice.  Not that I want to start a podcast or maybe I do.  It’s been my interest off late to speak against how essays are “taught”… to get further into the essay form and dimension, purpose and realization.

Jack refusing to empty out the milk into the sink from his cereal, clean the bowl.  He then burps louder than I’ve heard a human being sound in possibly years.  I laugh and can’t focus now.  Goddamnit, but thanks.  Think I needed just that.  That expulsion, from a snappily edgy 8 year-old.