14:36 lunch done.  Call earlier went well.  Now I’m still.. can’t think of the next action.

Some music, sparkling water, thoughts about prospecting but no mood to call or email.  Not sure what to do…. Journaling thoughts earlier on work and production, where I am and where I’m going.  How I arrived here at this desk with this laptop and all the mail and journals, chapstick… so what now.

Finally looking at the vineyard shots from the other weekend, right before the toothache pain hit.  Thinking while out there on Lambert Bridge Road, “Writing is writing, and I’m a writer, but it’s only writing.  There needs to be something else, somewhere it’s from.  PICTURES.”

So I shot whatever I could, the clusters and soil, rootstock, leaves, whatever was out there.  I have to start bringing my camera to SF, documenting the day in the Financial District.  From Cal and Sansome to where I park by the Embarcadero.

Okay… so I’m making myself a photog, today.  Like, truly a photographer.  Not a writer.  See how long I can keep up this act.  But it’s not an act.  No, can’t think of it like that.  It’s not.

It’s NOT.