7:47am Track

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Up and doing budget— OH, one thing I forgot to do.  Actually two.  Making more a project of money and what I spend money on, how I budget, cash usage versus just swiping that bloody card.  Be right back….

Checkbook.  I hate writing checks.  Especially to certain bodies.  But, have to.

Budget done, now just listen to heater go and some new music I found….  The new house, needing a music room.  Making music paired with verse and listening.  A full music room.  Have to credit my son and his love of playing piano, riffs he’s learned and ones he’s made up himself.

Piano (electric), mic, guitar… drum machine…. Have to wait for the house.  Goddamnit, and when’s that going to be?  Hate being dependent on outside momentums.  Thinking about the rest of my life and how I want to spend it.  MUSIC, much more than wine though she’ll be there.  Espresso nearly done… one more shot before Chris gets here.  When’s that again?  10.  Little under 2 hours.

Stray $1 bills from wallet thrown into house envelope.  Simplicity over any corrosive complication.  That’s the new style of composition and life, seeing where you are, what you’re doing.  On the note of Comp, I want another journal even though I said I would NEVER buy another.  A small one, like in the Indiana Jones movie, Last Crusade.  NO, I tell myself.  Bring the Paris pages, the camera… empty backpack.  Have this be a REAL wine day, assignment – journalism, music.  Me and the rest of my life – Happiness recipe or code-cracking.

Wearing glasses, just tried to take them off and my eyes were/are fucked.  Is this what it feels like, getting old?  What would Sedaris do?  Make fun of it, THIS, my addiction to these “cheaters” Mom bought me.  Love her.  But, I don’t like being dependent on anything, especially for something as expected as sight.  Try to propitiate self with these glasses and my age, somehow.  Not working at present.  Okay, let’s try taking them off again….  I guess this is okay—  NOPE.  Putting them back on.

Ohhhhhhhh……. So much better.  Like an eyes massage.  Should budget an eye appointment, for some real glasses.  Or maybe these can do for now.  Seeing better, you take if for granted and if you don’t you understand the significance of sight, your vision, once it begins its retirement.  Ugh, there’s another old person word, ‘retirement’.  I don’t want to retire, EVER.  I’ll be like Keith Richards, people one day reading an article of mine or blog post and saying something like, ‘Oh… he’s still alive?”

One more espresso shot, the illy kind not Starbucks.  The other night, speaking with students about truth, and telling truth through stories, touching on the reality of rich reality in your immediate scene, the meta….  My kids, I then thought as I do so often, need to write them, about them, from their actions much more.  They are the most promising set of books approaching.  Henry the other night slamming on Jack’s piano keys… I put on LoFi beats for a little more beat and complete read of my room here, the table I use for a desk, the first sip of espresso even though I very much feel the frame and influence of the double I had prior.

8:29, should probably get in the shower soon.  All poems in one place….  The Paris pages.  Started writing a song, not sure how many verses it’ll be.  Just writing….  My new music story begins today, this morning, with all this fucking espresso and battle with my own eyes.  Deciding today that MUSIC is the story, stemming from everything already placed to page – the AE story, wine, running, health and fitness and my new focus on nutrition and fasting…

People today… who will we meet.  Backpack empty, putting in notebooks and camera after it’s charged, maybe.  Actually no, keeping it here.  Now what… I hit not so much a wall but a thick forest like the one on the mountain in front of me, that I see out the dining room window.  To many directions possible and I have no idea which to choose.   Follow the story, I remind self.  Don’t try to write it.  Sound like philosophy mumbo jumbo, but not.  Here, 42, writing, new story and freedom and happiness ahead of the writer and in many respects already here.  Now what.

I’m overthinking… I shouldn’t be thinking at all, I remember.  Just writing.  My entire life now, an impromptu recital and composition.  That’s life, that’s living, that’s SELF.  Friend with her cheese plate/charcuterie business, just acting from when she’s inspired or cosmically encouraged to do a board.  One morning waking at 3-something, spending the next two or more hours on ONE board.  I was shocked at the commitment but as well the turn in energy once motivated to create.

First sip, much better than the Starbucks shit.  This tastes like the espresso I had in Paris, when we first landed.—  Distracted by more music, and how my vision adjusts, or tries once the glasses are off.  Now back on.  Goddamnit.  Should I bring them today?  Yes, Mom would say, so I will.

Setting aside a couple hundred for music.  Thinking of making music with Jackie— WAIT, I almost forgot about Garage Band on this laptop….  Not the best program, obviously, but it’s music, there are notes in here, drums and other.  Need headphones… SHIT, mine are in storage.  Buy some new ones today, better ones.  See if I can get Chris to stop by Target or somewhere with me after the wine mission, get a glass somewhere, or something.  AND CHRIS, with is DJ and beats station at his house…. Yes, music returning to what it used to be in my story, when my cousin and I were making mixtapes, selling them.  One summer in Sunriver making over $100 each…. Forever ago.  My newly deployed weapon, arsenal against time – MUSIC.

Sip, stretch, bob head…