Staying in chair. The more I think the more I contaminate the composition, the movement.. it’s true. Caught myself a second ago thinking, “What do I write?”
REALLY? That again?
I’m working from home, my glasses keep fogging and becoming hazy. Clean them off like some fuddy-duddy with my thumb and forefinger and my sweater. Oh my god I’m old…
This office, I missed it. I like the nook and the loft floor, but this area is completely and universally mine. My lab and blah blah like I write earlier.
Jackie becoming loud playing his game I tell him to be quiet, and he does which’ll only last for about, maybe, ten minutes. Not counting, but am.
Bored now, what do I do…? Look for prospects, meh. Not in the mood.
My positive beat persists, snaps me out of whatever funk just bumped me. And it is a true Beat, clear music in my head. Not a soundtrack so much as some instrumental, like a LoFi track with quicker BPM and slightly harder percussion. Bobbing my head, to this key punch, and then another – 3, 2, 1…. Never done. Like a web all ideas geometrically spun.