Earthquake earlier. Actually two.
One over 4 on scale. Amazing dinner with Dan and Sue, now in Nook Office as I used to be when living here. Found a Pride Cab in cellar here that had a post-it with my name on it, “MIKEY”. Letter obvious and attention-getting, note to future me meaning the tonight-Mike.
Sipping Roth Cab, AV, and thinking about Dad’s pilot store from earlier, the stormy approach in SFO, and other. Can remember specifics right now, too wrapped in life’s brevity and how the writer only has tonight.
Mom and I talking about the quakes, first one with he reaction like “Oh is that an earthquake?” Then the second, “Oh fuck, that’s an earthquake.” The Cab helping, mentoring.
Long day of business and divorce shit… someone telling me my blog reads like a journal. Yeah no shit. Wildly genius assessment. More wine, ‘nother of the Roth AV. Reminds me of the beginning dates of this. Writing late here in the Nook. I’m here again, conversations til Mom and Dad, grateful. Kerri messaging me that she’s having her daughters help her prep boards.
What is this blog, what am I – About EVERYTHING, a writer. Learning.
Picture of my grandma above the fireplace in the room in front of me, guess you’d call that a family or ‘living’ room. Time, times with Grandma and Grandpa, taking me one place or another when younger. Need to think…
ME – 43, music, need more. Of what, more music yes but more peace, more a Composition and story new. Haven’t sipped the Cab yet, waiting. Trading ideas from one character side to another persona tide. I know where the new Mike Madigan goes, is going, what poems he’s throwing.
Free, freeness.. messaging old friend sad new ones. Something different in life, the prime, earth, something – this table. What a poet needs and upon feeds. Nearly wishing for another quake but I’m sure I’ll regret that frag’ soon.