Like I dreamt it and didn’t.
Kerri and her daughters leave after dinner, me coming home to a nacho casserole her daughter Leilah made. Overtaken by gratitude, love, acknowledgment of where I am and what I’m doing.
No TV, just me at the nook table with a glass of this white blend Kerri brought over. Like a blend of Viognier and some other white types. Tired a bit, but it’s still somewhat early— oh shit it’s 7:58… daylight savings not affecting me till now. Okay, that changes the day’s Beat. Not too much though…
Overtaken by gratitude, on so many levels. Tired, so not quite with the energy to adequately address it. I see more now, I see EVERYTHING. My kids getting older, eventually in business with me maybe.
Turning on some Eric Hilton, again, and composing my own mood in the loft tonight before the week starts. No such fucking thing as “Sunday scaries” with this writer. I dictate and take my own contour and reality. And we all can, if we acknowledge it…
Honestly, there is no defeat, there is no win. Only decision… deciding to move and not be still or surrender to your own self-doubt. When we get nervous about work or what we’re doing, whatever the project, self-talk and realization are the ever-applicable panacea. And if you want to talk about wins and losses, moving is a win. Deciding not to be a settled mass is a wine, a voluminous victory. Honestly just what I’m thinking right now, this Sunday night before the work week. There are no “Sunday scaries”. Not here. And there will never be. That’s what I’ve decided.
May take a break here in a minute. Getting tired. Maybe the time change is detracting from my ardor, I don’t know.