10:22

Back from a Café Noto walk.  Quiet house.  The ailment of missing the kids so bad that it interferes with everything hasn’t arrived yet.  And yes, ailment.  It hurts and slows me.  Really odd and amazing how much I love those three small Beats.

Jazz on… eyes on book.  Five pages guaranteed to self and readers by day’s end.  Day of self-care, or like Mom just messaged me, ‘of rest’.  No obsessing over how messy the house is though it’s not that bad.  Except for this office.  Will do wha tI did last time, just stack all the papers I have.  Two piles:  trash, have.

There, that’s better.  Threw away a couple solicitations, some coupon newspaper or whatever, now more free.  Clutter affecting me more as I get older.  And it’s definitely an ‘as you get older’ thing.

Lunch possibly later with my old SE, Ditter, then wine and laundry later tonight.  Honestly, excited about it.  To write what wine I pair with the boring-ass task of laundry.  There’s an article idea… the Merlot, AV Vineyards.  Still haven’t popped that, to my surprise.  Won’t get bored, and if I do.. WRITE IT.  The symptoms and what I perceive as lacking, what I withered were occurring in front of me.

Not so much cures for boredom what I’m after, but understanding it and how to avoid it and extinguish it when it python-wraps me.  Am I bored now?  An incredible NO.  Why… the music, Coltrane, latte, early in day, cool outside with fog and overcast.  Perfect weather for this mood and this collection.  Happy, yes… know the recipe, I say to myself.  Looking at a picture I took of Henry last night when we were downstairs watching his favorite cartoon not being able to sleep, either of us.  But the big kids, dominant and drifted from this world.

Conditions of this day of writing and rest, relaxing, Composition, entirely apposite.  Fitting perfectly in all discernments and layers.  Sip latte, look at receipts and don’t feel like entering a single goddamn one.  So I won’t.  That’s not self-care, she told me after telling her that Monday after my birthday that I was going to laundry and clean the house.  She’s right.

Happiness Project sentence for day:  Nothing can obstruct my yay-vision.  Repeating this to myself.  My Self compiling and aggrandizing on levels all….  Moving a couple things around, reorganizing ideas and intentions with me as a writer.  Architecture, anew, renewed.  Understanding the Mike Madigan of this Windsor loft condo, his latte fix just a block and a half away.

10:49 already.  Time shows me that if I want something a drawing board isn’t necessary.  A diving board IS.  Just throw yourself to it.  All the propulsion you need is in your cells now.  What you are and where.  ME, in new everything.. temperament, sight.