In office and sipping last of the Oliver’s SB. One thing to do and I may just be a lazy writer the rest of the night. Still a little coffee in Kerouac cup and I’m tempted to sip it ‘cause it smells so amazing, is that weird?
Merlot for the night, one of those Raymond bottles with the felt or whatever material that is labels.
All papers piles gone. Well, almost. One on desk but not of any worry or anxiety-tell. In a zen bed, back to work tomorrow and with no preoccupation with results or how the month will end. Well. I’m over 100% of quota, but who knows about next month and this new conversation, and I’m just not worried. I don’t want to write about sales anymore and I won’t. Wine.. wine is my topic. The people tasting around me when in the room or seated on a patio like I was with my South Dakota friend Cheri last week.
Found new music to pair with wine, this room, the poz loft upstairs. Grateful again, and in the same fiery code of yesterday and the day before.
Outside staring back me, gently but with instruction.