More searching. Hungry, may get breakfast. Like what.

Startup… blog.. people… the kids… wine.  Everything yes connecting but more communicating with the neighboring idea.

Promising self a full written, HAND-WRITTEN, page today.  Paris journal.

Change in pocket.  From what.  Oh yeah, the latte.  How many more sips.  Maybe one, two…. Take one sip, then another.  It’s still alive.

Checking emails, one I missed.  Why others can’t respond to a simple email is funny and maddening, to me anyway.  What they think I couldn’t care less.  Enough of the nihilists.

11:20, and….?  I can’t write a fucking thing.  WHY.  Thinking too much, or just the act of thinking.  Why do I always do that?