Skyhawk House, Nook Office.
Friday, but it feels nothing like it. No idea what day it is. Woke worried about quota, and sales, and that told me something. Not noting here. Maybe I will later but not now. Enjoying my morning, the quiet in this Nook. See how long it lasts.
Looking at a condo today, in Windsor, close to the Green. No hopes, no expectations, no emotions. None. I’m done with that. Just the present sight and light envisage of opportunities.
What the IT guy said the other day at lunch, about the drummer guy who plays in a band, gives lessons, has online content. With what though for me, writing? Wine? Running? Running…. Huh. I’m not the runner I was before covid, that’s a certain. Feeling askew in that story, the running pages. “Holy Contour”, what happened to that? Restarting today, AGAIN.
Jack has a new phone I guess, texting me this morning “Hi dad. It’s Jack”. Tells me he’s walking to school with his friend Addie, which I’m not terribly excited about. Nothing to do with his friend at all, just walking to school. Makes me realize, he’s at that age. Maybe so, but I’m still uneasy about him walking that distance. Which is relatively short, but still.
Running, stay on that topic. Not. A. TOPIC. Story, this new one. Started today. Run 1, one hour. Slow speed. On tread. Run tomorrow, on street. Alternate.
This will be a 90-day project and story. May start a new journal here on laptop for it. YES. I have to. Elevated seriousness. Thoughts and imaginative realities start to graze in front of me on this table…. Running in Marin, Sausalito like I wanted to weeks ago.
Everything running. Forget about this other shit, wine and tech and relationships. Time pollutants and story toxins.