Their mother to be here in less than 8 hours. Yesterday rushing by indiscriminately. Baseball around 2:15 going till close to 4:30 then dinner back here with my parents.
Now Jack’s breakfast. Henry watching his cartoon, not that hungry I guess. Sipping the last of my espresso and trying to concentrate through Jack’s chewing. Annoying, but he’s doing nothing wrong. He tells me he’s full. Waste a cereal serving. No matter. His second bowl and he said he was still hungry but apparently his brain caught his stomach, or the other way around.
9:28, one more espresso shot. Warm in here, on goes the AC just for a bit. Doesn’t take long for Jack to tell me “It’s cold in here…”, only to be distracted by Fortnite and a lesson he wants to share about some extremely strong character. Henry with his show still, not invading intently the kitchen as he does for something consumable.
I start speaking to myself like Kerouac did… observing their movements of arms and facial expressions, Henry bobbing his head to the songs, Jack so focused on his game he’d sooner jump into the screen. Committing to getting them ready for Farmer’s Market in a bit and while in the loft area Emma asks me if she can ride her scooter to the Green I say of course and she goes back to reading whatever she’s reading.
Back from Farmer’s Market on the Green where we walked around and said hi to “the magnet lady” as the big kids call her. Woman out of Sebastopol who paints objects with these hypnotic and glossy, elegant paint blends. Not sure how to word it. First time they met her a few weeks ago she gave Jack and Emma a magnet. May have written about before. Anyway, good to see her and the kids were happy. No new magnets.
Went to Noto and bought myself a latte and the big kids these flavored waters they like and that remind them of the first place they had them, my Aunt Denise’s house. Henry had a little ice water. Now in kitchen typing and the kids resting before drive to comic book store.
Thinking of what to do with the ‘Archive’, that weird closet or storage space in my room. Head goes to music… recording. Having it be a sound room, possibly making Thievery or Emancipator-like beats. Thinking about ways to do something with it.. create something in there.. has to be recording. My voice, music, somehow.
11:44… the strength of this latte is startling. Good, need to stay ahead of the wee Madigan. Dad life, especially a single one in this loft giving me all I need to get to the scenes I’ve dreamt about since high school. WRITING for a living, how I’m seen and thought of, recognized when out in public with the kids.
Henry attacking Jack for something… have to intervene. Get out of house again, comic book store then maybe a drive. There goes more gas, and money. Croissant was $5.. does that seem a bit elevated for a street pastry?