1-6-24
Feel like I’m not moving quick enough, or I need another system, some new BEAT, or something.
15:34 in Vacaville home office, have to log two new opps from walking in Novato earlier in the day with Shay. Constructing new timelines, ones with drop-dead-ass dates. Making them more real, or of a beaming and more punctuated liveliness, vivacity, BEAT..
The BEAT of things, that’s what to me now speaks. Espresso later than I usually have but it’s needed. Not sure when Nurse comes home so I keep moving.
New routine stapled. Not sure when Nurse will be home, neither is she. Driving to store shortly. Not advertising or even writing what I will do anymore, best I can. Only typing in reaction.
Time to figure this out, all of it. The Story itself, I mean.
My life. What I’m doing, where I’m going, why I let certain pulses even be pulses. Learning from the Room, from SELF and what I see my patterns to be.
15:52….. Nerves aflare. Not surw what caused it but then I am, so ignoring. Those energies, their sloppy missives and compilations of blather, just that. So, onward…. Then I see something else, hear a plane fly over the house and think of Dad. His career, what he did. How lucky I am to have such a capable and lucid and present father. Hard to believe how lucky I am, to be truthful. Sure that may bother some…
Journals touched today, all of them. I’ve been scattered I admire and notice and just now what this writer hopes to heal and hone in on some hue of homeostatic Road. Keep writing I tell myself. Don’t go to the store yet. Not yet.
You need an idea – THAT idea, the one that changes the blog and your career, how you think, the worries and money matters. Find one thing… not logging here obviously but in the little journal I bought in Larkspur that one day canvassing on Magnolia, right before I had lunch. I remember scribbling in it at the table, having that SB and chicken salad, listening to people talking imagining the Nurse and I in Europe, wherever.
Trips planned obviously, another today. The year fills up, many squares on the calendar, with my bride-to-be. We keep smiling at each other, joking, last night texting into hours that absolutely interfered with sleep. No regrets from either of us.
Today visiting her at the hospital on the way home and both of us smiling and more expected and somewhat cheesy couples humor. Referencing our first date twice, the Nurse actually, and me telling her how hard all this is to believe.
Maybe this is my writing BEAT. Relationships, what the Nurse and I have. Being fucking happy— I know, weird. Especially to some people who find misery and bitterness, anger and resentment to be the tastiest heroin. Sick, but I think I get it now.. what’s in their tiny little gnat brain.
Getting up, to store.