Writing in my old nook office, thinking about Little Kerouac…

My son, turning 11 today. Picked him up a bit before 3, took him to a store to walk around and look and imagine an office together. Remember the day he was born, under that lamp as most if not all newborns are put, I don’t know. He was so grateful and kind and soft and curious today. Never seen him like that. Where I am in my own story – as writer and dad and single dad – can only be grateful and silent, in daze, how did I get so blessed with a son like this.

Listening to chill ambient beats in this old nook that reminds me of the Sonic AE days, where my SE and I would land deal after deal, get those commission checks that would enable me to get the kids whatever they wanted.

Now it’s different. Won’t get too into it but today has been meditative as I told Mom and Dad over dinner. The day new like any other but with more instruction.

People messaging me and I try to ignore but can’t. Bed soon… Maybe one more glass of my sister’s Pinot. So much ahead of me.. the wine story and the blog projects, my own tech. No more commute–

Oh, forgot, can’t say that.