Beginning to think Windsor and its Green are my Paris.  My new Paris.  Grateful.


After a power nap.  I’m awake with a vicious pursuit, music and happiness, to do EVERYTHING for my kids, provide them with all opportunities.  Of course I expect them to be determined to some point to get what they want, but I want to be a home for them, a center of collection and base, resource of sorts.

5:34, my brother Chris here less than an hour, listening to Thievery… Can’t believe I’m seeing one half of the duo tonight.  In Santa Rosa of all places.  Anymore stay away that city from the stress it injects.  I can’t do it anymore.  No, I’m not slanderous, I’m sharing my reaction how I’ve become more sensitive to traffic and congestion nd crowds and humans, getting older.  I want the quiet, I want my new Paris.

Music, poetry, helping with the escape.  Thinking of beats and rimes, words and lines in head, what’s to be said, my own self self-fed.  New set, a more true test—

Some people worried about me, and they shouldn’t.  I’m focused as much as newly free…. The Ox out of the Bottle, never stopped in my novel.  Putting cash to side, invest, new business… the most exciting of time for this Mike Madigan.  And I hope these devils are reading…

Yeah I should be cautious, more kind kind and gentle, careful… ‘cause that’s taken me WHERE.

Calming… MUSIC, zen, JAH—  More sense, the further I get from my own anger and ire.  Peace when I think bout the kids, my daughters sweet little voice, watching little Henry walk and jog around the second floor loft, then my little best friend Jackie telling me about his newest learns and discoveries, his passion for that game he plays – the familiarity and intricacies 

They answer everything, my kids.  They ARE the EVERYTHING.  To everything.  Grateful so much my pulse is irregular.  LOVE.