Behind on word count for the year. Who cares. Filled the RECORD journal, nearly. Like half a page left. Working in office tonight… no Netflix or news, any show… some work for Dad and myself, Orin Swift blend on desk, texting a friend… ZEN.
Grateful. More than I know what to say or do with. Working here tomorrow. Have to remember to put out garbage. Red done, maybe some white to round off night. Stay down here and listen to Mr. Hilton, relax. My space my spot my story.
Last week’s events still a telling tremor. Hard to shake, not sure if I can. Sales story with its new shift and shake, seat and reach. Me… new poetry. New model and mode. More wine…
Blank Stare, an SB. But getting tired. Long day, slept okay last night and wasn’t tired in the office at all, now the writer sinks.