Tired, barely energy or interest to write.  Peace in nook, Jack playing his game, Emma and Henry watching kid shows.

Writing for sake of writing, to find something.  Feel diminished passion, distant Personhood tonight.  What do I want, what am I after…. When I started this new story I enjoyed not knowing, now I’m a little terrified.  Or encouraged.  This has to be the day’s tired , end-of-day, telling me something about Self and what I need do at this skip.

The idea of doing something completely different.  Out-of-character… putting certain practices and ways in figurative mausoleum.  Of course I think of fiction, creating something new, that something new whatever it is that’s needed.

Write a work log alongside.  A novel?  Short stories?  Vignettes?  Let me toy with this a bit.

I start to wake up, temped to make coffee at this hour.  The guy quitting corporate life to live more simply, have his coffee shop, go from 4000 square-foot house to an apt…. Again, different.  The more MAD the better.

Starting somewhere, following through.  Challenge to self, how far I’ll go.  Life, lessons, growth, struggle.  It’s all honed newly definitely forward.