Poetry in mind… finally back to office – 

Chair, some red from upstairs and a Thievery Corporation mixtape.  Bought two tickets for Chris and I – first live music event in however many unknown years.  This Saturday… one of the members of Thievery, unbelievable.  My wine Room, whatever shape is made and it takes clearer with music.

Glasses on, much I don’t want them to be.  Grateful for this quiet, no humans at the loft.  Just me and music… Talking to Tasha, waiting for her firstborn, making me feel old, nostalgic I guess but more sad that I’ll never have that again.  Stop, telling self, I have three amazing babies now – little Kerouac, Miss Austen, little Henry James…

Fighting nothing, only own soul

Return to music hold, even if I’m getting old

I’ll never sell my foremost fold whether smoldering or cold

Now not focused on production but just listening to Thievery, sipping the red, thinking of my babies, this room, condo, Windsor…

Jack and I in business together, something small… either coffee shop, or marketing agency, some small startup.  Anything with him.  Never favoring any of them, but HE, little Kerouac, beatnik poet young sage, all my visions and reaches.