Jack and Emma telling me stories driving home, making me laugh and nearly cry and realize.

What exactly not sure but time isn’t waiting.  Looking out at the Bay from the Oakland Embarcadero, pressing self to move, move quicker.  Something waiting for me.  Could be the tasting room, could be the BDX vision and idea.  Or no idea.  Not sure what I’m saying now, so tired.

Oneness of character, when I’m with them.  I’m better.  More idea-fuel, more purposed and postmodern promise more visible.

Haven’t written much today, oh well.  Sleeping with laptop.  Setting alarm.  5am.  No bullshit.  Writing till I wake the big kids, which is usually 6:40.  Jack’s lunch already, should be a smooth morning.

Won a bottle of Lodi Petite Sirah at the holiday lunch party, why I was in Oak-town.  Only the second white elephant or white Santa gift exchange or party, ritual, whatever it is that I’ve ever participated in.  Somewhat funny at least to me that I walked out with a bottle of wine.  Already upstairs in the archive, where the cellar continues to aggrandize.

Laundry tonight.  Behind on that like I am my receipts and work expenses.  “Stick to your system.” What say to self, over and over.  Am I, is it, listening?