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.