Aim Fire Time

EOD – 10:18pm back from Katie’s Thanksgiving dinner at her Sonoma house.  Kids in bed, others going to be.  Me motivated to keep working.  Not not just “motivated’, but committed and entrenched.  Thinking of ways to write differently, different addresses and yes topics or directions.  That will magnetize more happiness and contentment about me, extending to those close.

Talking to sister tonight for the first time in who knows how long, about what’s next in her career.  Of course not citing any specifics here but hearing what she said, then thinking of my story, the shift and everything involved in that.  Her house and my eventual domicile, here in Skyhawk or Windsor or wherever.

The stage now, this nook and the dark kitchen and family room, seemingly boring.  Not at all, I argue. Like my friend and those boards of cheese and meats, assorted nuts and crackers and what be… the blank board and the style of board atop which everything fits.  Nothing, then something drawn, composed.  And all at like 3 or 4-something in the morning.  Didn’t think I was going to sit here and type after getting home with Jack and Emma and putting them to bed and all that brings like brushing teeth, making sure blankets and pillows arranged to their liking….  A non-topic turned into a submittable piece— NO, something to just place in the world, no submission as I’m not waiting for any kind of acceptance.

Position here being the moment is decided, not assigned.  End-of-day and I could have just as easily gone to bed and said something to myself like “Eh I’ll write in the morning like I always do.” I don’t often do this, sit where I do during the week and produce something even if it’s a little rant or entry.

I can feel the tired crawling up veins and to brain but I’m not fighting it.  I’m allowing it to do its job while I do mine.  Thanksgiving over, time telling me it’s stronger, I’m getting old, then I tell it to fuck off by not telling it fuck off but rather just keep working.  Producing something, a new thought, a new visual of my future – coming books – that I’ll just decide into tangibility.  Driving home with Jack and Emma, Emma falling asleep in the back and Jack talking to me about everything he wants to do with his Pokemon (think I misspelled that in the last entry or somewhere) cards and what he trades and how with his friends.  He doesn’t overthink he just makes trades and discussion with his friend happen, and anywhere, wherever.

Still have a cough but not using that as any out to crawl into bed, stop writing.  Remember I have those cherry lozenges Mom gave me the other night.  One in, better.  Tired still in veins and moving more quickly and ubiquitously through my truths.  10:40, I’ll stop in a bit.  At least I did it, sat in the nook and worked.  Taking journal to bed with me.  Essay idea for tomorrow – targeted, understood, seized.