Wrote two short poems.

Do I like them.  Yes, I guess.

Hate this chair.  Lower back hurts.  Wish I had one of those standing desks like I see some at the office use, when we were in the office, when the world wasn’t this world.

In love with the idea of a new year.  Music.  The year only bringing music.  Everything in music.  Wine, business, prospecting, writing, being a parent, driving, building a new house… everything.

This song, not sure who it’s by, but it’s soft melody and consistency have me set in a new step.  Don’t let this leave, I say to it.  Don’t let one of my moods crack this composition code.

Think grading for last semester will be rather straightforward, much simpler than I thought.  Goal is to have it done by EOD.

Already on second page of new year.  How.  Kids complaining upstairs.  Quiet, where are you?

Next semester, need to order books.  Another aim for the day.  And, to find humor in absolutely everything.  Humor is the defense, the offense, the decision, the only option.

Poetry in architecture, the next house and the beach office house/composition cottage.  Looking at houses in Monterey, Santa Cruz which now is my more intense search city, then Oregon.  Not a Tahoe lover, never have been.

No more indenting.  I’ve decided.  Probably insignificant to someone who doesn’t write, or even to those who do.  Taking as much of the page as I can.

Melissa making breakfast.  Kids boasting and flaunting their freedom in this day off.  No worries, no cares, diminishing manners coherence.

Demanding more of self.  Everything extending from wine and my wined story, placing self in that word and world, again and again.  The demand comes from the coffee, work as it does, put something new into my own circulation and the circulation of the day.  Stay in the shop, the demand calls.  Everything taking into its own form, not a just a weak considerations.  New place, new self, new call.