3:07, closing day.  Education, teaching, self-education in this literary and diarist lift.

Reconnecting with old family friends who my sister and I have always referred to as Uncle, Aunt.  20-plus years since any communication, and the story restarts.  Or just continues.  Like I told Uncle over the phone last week in our first conversation in above cited time, “This is just part of our contour…”

Not sure why I keep using that word, think it’s a Kerouac thing, but anyway…. What I really believe.  Then the old pictures of Jack, my little Emma turning 7 today going on 16-ish with her wit and sass, spunk and occasional bite.  And Henry… too adorable.  I can’t.  Biased but so what.


Emma says I need to teach again, but I’m only starting to really learn what this story is.  Huh…

First pillar in writing thought-scape, “Don’t think.  Just write.”  Another will be an accent and emphasis on the simple and seemingly boring, or plain.

Imbued with new truth – music pew ado.  Emancipator, Thievery, Coltrane, Shakur, all of it.  Each track for ME.  Here at the desk.  This room, condo, new story be it sales or educating.