But here I am… last glass.  Some of that Oliver’s Own Zin.  Not bad, wanna know the Truth. 

Keep thinking about the commute, the kids, the future… how you let consistencies consist.  Fuck, I can’t type fast enough.  How did Kerouac do it with a fucking typewriter when this thing nearly fucking types for me—

Calming…. Listening to old poetry.  I’m different after the appointment.  I don’t know, not as much concern, or fear, or anything.  20:49 —

Hear a voice behind me, in the driving area between the two complexes.  Maybe someone on a deck.

Not sure I’m posting any of this… I just can’t believe I got through that fucking root canal. Took a few pictures, selfies mostly… wow.  I did it. I overcame that fear and yes the nitrous gas was helpful.

20:55… Will be interesting, see how this evolves.  Here I am, on a familiar stage.  Killing this wine, getting ready for bed so I can be up for that useless call at 07:30.

Time shrinking like lifespan.  Morbid, I know.  Getting house ready for close.. can’t believe I don’t feel that pain from last night, or one before, or before…

Think I know what’s happening – the denotation and connotation of this newest Shift—