13:49
After some calls and a snack and I won’t lie a quick power nap right before, I’m in the office. Heater on and trying to figure out what to do in this telecom story.
Waiting on approval for the fiber quote I worked up earlier. I hate waiting. You know that already, but just so we’re clear.
That was a joke, or attempt at. Looking at this like an agency, that is the only way to make a gig like this lucrative.
Someone working up the contract for me, and I kill a couple minutes looking at vineyard pictures. Wondering when I’ll walk one again, the rows of whatever grape type.
Nurse at lunch, at work, me grateful for the loft office. This last little parcel of …., put into ….. Leaving that for book. Motivated by the money. I have to be. I know that sounds bad, or looks somewhat, whatever, on paper, but that’s where I am.
Writing for currency…. To feed my kids and family and we’ll never worry about a fucking thing.
Feels delightful to be this honest, if you really wanna know the truth. Fiber quote has been communicated, now I wait. Hoping the point of contact is working today but if not…. What can I do. Only can control my activity.
And right now I’m taking time to SELF… writing. Tomorrow New Year’s Eve, and I am not playing in this new year. Fearlessness and GRATITUDE… how the two are linked, contingent upon each other. Seeing them as the same chord, actually.
TELECOMMADIGAN, another idea. And I think that’s how this AE story is going to take flight. Making it ALL about me. Write all the steps and efforts, be honest with myself.
Again seeing how fast time is moving. It’s not Xmas anymore? That’s done? What the fuck…. I need a drink. Obviously not going to, at 14:21 although that does sound nice, glass of SB and waiting for this pricing to be approved by the client. And it should be, as it’s the same as the old location but never mind.
No money spent today. Part of the new Money Architecture Project, v.25. Make coffee at home, more meal prep or all meal prep which is just what the Nurse and I are doing, enabling— well, will tell you in the book.
The calm that I feel know much infuriate the antithesis. And I celebrate the reality. And it’s not a reality, then the possibility. And if it’s not a possibility, then let me fucking imagine them being upset.
Diarist intentions, more and more. Or documentarian. Either way not looking for material, not chasing, not hoping. I have everything right here. In this condo, in Windsor. Feeling unstoppable, I’ll just say it. And I don’t see it possible for anything or one to stop this writer.
Escaping the vultures, the scowls, the meaningless missives. I’m celebrating going into this new year. How about that? How will that be received? I’m happy. Does that warrant a date? Some new stack of papers? Me, I can’t believe it, I’m actually free. Huh….