Messages over Teams come in, not in mood to communicate. What can I do…
Feeling a little more aloft and alive. Haircut, then drive to client’s site. See if they’re there, and will just sign. All I need is this one sig and I’m in a better place. Thinking of how to migrate this to something else. Like a PR or Marketing shop.
I need to be tougher on SELF, and not give in to this self-pity and low estimation beat. Not helping. Do something for SELF— Here I go…….
—>
12:50
No haircut, and nothing of any notable event so far. Henry will be dropped off soon.
Started laundry, one goal for day. Had idea earlier, nothing written yet. Noticing my mind changing, at least today, and not liking the new shapes, this slow and drudgery-drawn metamorphosis.
Switch flipped. New action…. No caffeine, rather sparkling water.
Upstairs in loft now working with little Henrito home. Forcing myself into a singular address, one project, and not budging till it’s wildly lucrative. Not specifying, but can’t understand why I haven’t done this before. One conversation, one verbal contract. That’s almost immediate revenue.
Then another….
One more.
And just like that, three for the day. My own agency— WHOOPS. Almost said too much, but it’ll be known before too long.
Get rid of all debt, new car, the Nurse’s and my new house. We may do a little hunting this weekend, after our hike tomorrow up ….. Mountain.
Heard that song Shiny Happy People, by R.E.M., earlier. When was the last time I heard that?
What lit this new idea’s wick.
Call with Nurse, she on her way and my creative fire is selectively more precise and decided. More molding of wheels and their revolutions, and philosophy sight. Each turn, or revolution, its own REVOLUTION.
A HAPPINESS REVOLUTION.
Moving forward, the only language I will let myself speak. No more of this downtrodden drowsy talk and thought, mood. Done.
Holy shit… just looked up the domain, and it’s free. How the fuck is that possible? I think this is the idea, I really do. Oh my …. Shit. This has to be it.
HAPPINESS revolution, movement, dance, sight, writing, defining, moving differently and deciding in happiness wha the next scene speaks. Laundry bell goes off on 3rd floor. Fuck I don’t want to leave the table. Then don’t, I tell myself. Think of other agency names, but that first one I think is the winner, for obvious reasons. None of which I’ll go into now because some barely-competent vulture for some reason keep in their ailed penchant for these pages.
And, I want to just wait. No quick moments. Gotten me into trouble too many times in the past. Especially with work, some job selection that I fucking had to make. Budget set, move these here…. Then a little more over………. HERE.
Perfect. What a turn the day decided to make for the writer.