But I’m here, I’m present.

New business ideas and sight.  Not sure what precisely, but this quiet in this room with this view from this table instructs.  EVERYTHING, needs to be different.  More practice, more method.  No music playing, and I need it that way.  Full and whole, intimate connection with the Now-scene.  Me, this story, this morning… the shift.  What then… to be told or known.  No rush.

One fast move, or I’m gone, Kerouac said.  My feeling, acutely in today’s A.M.  Remembering nearly 20 years ago when an old friend and I went to Reno for the first time.  Would never do that now, but my age… that’s what I think about, and can’t believe.  I was 22 once.  I was 20-something once.  

Shit, I was in my 30s at one point.

And now…..  Have to stop with this attitude and mood.  No, this is not depression – this is a misplacement of mind, of thought.  I can figure out everything, EVERYTHING, in this chair, looking out at that mountain, from this chair.  On this page.

Talking to self like it’s not me, like the book is speaking in response to the reader’s read.  Turning everything around – making a new story, a new sky and aim.  Like the dream’s total scape has been re-written, re-made.

Thinking about the words and the page, me as a writer, my glass of wine with that old friend yesterday – her tattoo of her father’s note on her arm, in his writing.  Thought that was such a beautiful thing to do… his writing, on her skin.  She sees it and knows he’s there, with her, through anything that happens.

Life and how short it is, if you could …