Calm, zen, still in the decision of no run today.

Distractions, trying me.  Please, I say to myself, “You’re not a contest today for this new and newly renewed, again, Mike Madigan.” Try again another day, or don’t.  It doesn’t matter to me.

11:43… taking this laptop on a sec into the kitchen and sitting on the couch, but not before having the leftovers Nurse packed me.  So sweet, kind, always thoughtful and thinking of her crazy writing friend.

Quiet, but I try to get ahead.  This morning, that initial rush of anxiety and things coming at me from whatever corner and shelf it could find, finally quelled.  An old Mike Madigan, from the college days, hear his voice.  That one short story I submitted in graduate school about the neighbor coming over, having one sip of wine then leaving, putting the character in a writing tornado mind where he couldn’t stop writing about her.

His focus was singular, as was mine when I wrote it, somewhere in 2003 I believe.  Wow…

No need for coffee, I’m enough alive.  About to heat leftovers and take the laptop with me, sit on that couch and type whenever appears – wine, running, family, kids, single dad journals and notes.. TIME.