Just wrote a sentence but I swear I’ve written it before so immediately deleted.  Day already over -curious how time seemed to jet past me even quicker than in past days, or any days.  MY ambitions are amplified.  Riding to my There.  Seeing my beach house again, and finishing the Mona novel.  Life and its brevity and facility are more obvious to me than ever.  Out of the house, all day tomorrow.  May rejoin coLAB.  This house and home office are done.  At least during day.  Travel, be out, moving, speaking… laptops never leaving, and retiring this backpack.

No story should be easy for the character.  And I don’t want mine to be, but I’m thinking of which direction to steer… 42, need to be on offensive EVERY day.  Working at home is not consistent with such mentality.  Soles need to be on street, concrete, meeting people, conversations, learning new stories.

My picture becomes more believable, what I’m aiming for.  I WILL be at this desk tonight, no fail.  And, starting the morrow before its ours arrive.  More control over the story, more story in the story and sense of a story, if that makes sense.  And if it doesn’t now it doesn’t have to.  Being more present and connected to the Now is what builds.  The architecture and structure are inevitable… more than new but renewing.

I’m in a new character and thinking stretch.  Jack on couch here in office with me, talking about his game and the aspects of it associate with building a house.  Drowning this stall or wall that’s been obstructing my thinking and writing, being on page.  No more.  Just write anything and everything, I tell myself.  Reading more… beyond Lawson and Irby, Kerouac and the usual flat.  More experience in everything… About EVERYTHING.

Seeing something, and nearly losing all breath balance…. Love.