……..

9:26

Slept in a bit and I could fucking kick myself.  No early run as planned, shocker.

Kids still testing positive as is their mom, and I didn’t get the house.  A bunch of shit right on shoulders as soon as I wake up.  Awesome.

Move past it.  Moving run on calendar till EOD.

Why did I sleep in so late.  I’m beyond annoyed, with everything.

Distracting self with thoughts of the week ahead. The AE story and the direction I want to take it.  Have another house to look at— STOP.  Forgot houses for a second.  Let go of everything, see what stays.

Nothing.  I’m pissed.  I wanted that fucking house.  Now back to zero, the hunt and search and looking when I could be selling.

Then strangely I feel more focused than I have in a while.  Not getting swayed one way or another.  New coffee Mr. Kerri bought for me yesterday on our visit to Cost Plus, something I haven’t done in a while, changing the mood and modality of this new MM.  Writing only, no visions of music making or photog (truly the only tempts, anymore).

Coffee finally working.  Waking up.  No more of that Sunday sludge I felt, grabbing my phone to see the time and saying OH SHIT, 9-something.  Actually I’m not waiting for EOD for a run.  I’m driving out to Bodega and will run wherever and however I can.

Found a trail, or path.  “Bodega Head”.  May be restrictions due to covid, but I’ll figure something out.  Run wherever I can. 

Mood returns, but I have to laugh… nothing I can do.  Wednesday they’re saying 76 degrees, Dad says.  Perfect running weather.  People say we need rain.  I don’t. I need warmer weather, I need vacation weather.

10:07

Second cup.  Leaving in about 30, maybe a little more.  Looking at this new cup.  The color and texture and how it looks on the glass of this Nook office table.  And why am I capitalizing ‘Nook’.  Why not?  Capitalization and punctuation are only conceptual, they’re ideas.  The cup delineating a new writing dimension and question, focus on pat and how I here arrived, everything in between and on the side.

More money into jar, $8, and receipts from yesterday entered. Never getting behind as I was yesterday and how underwater and paper-pummeled I felt.  Not today.  Getting away from those thoughts and thinking about the run by the beach… a running book.  What happened to that project, “Holy Contour, a running declaration”? Distractions as usual.  Running, running… not all runs have to be 5+, at least not right now when I’m still trying to get back into the 8-mile lunch shape and condition and form.

Running and ll related thoughts envelop me eagerly and with bright overarching tenacity.  To Bodega Bay….   What the waves will sound like.  Will I need a sweater.  Bringing one anyway, though I probably won’t need it.  Just have to see.  

Shit, it’s 10:19.  Time teaching me lessons harshly this morning.  Getting up, sipping last, headed to kids then the Bay.