storm in comparison to any perceived storm in the past few years… Somewhat of a white knuckle nerve-racking drive but even still it was relaxing listening to the music. I thought about going straight home but then thought, simple pleasures… Just walking around Oliver’s, getting some groceries, and then coming home. Which is precisely what I did. Now in the kitchen done with dinner, leftovers from lunch, and about to listen to some music, drink some of this Orin Swift Pinot, and relax. I don’t have it in me to walk downstairs to the office… I know, that’s an excuse, and there are never excuses when you’re a writer, but that is me right now. I’m going to stay here at the 228 bar, and listen to the rain, and the music, in tandem, in concert, my own orchestra, my own meditation, beautifully colored and arranged and decided purposefully for me. All poetry. All knowingly. A glowing show of a new known sea.