Night and day down-winding.  Wrote poem earlier, but on phone.  Just needed, I don’t know… music.

Verse.

Listening to new music now, imagining a room of books and sipping something red as I am now.

Anyone seeing this, the slitherers – I AM IN NO WAY FEARFUL.

More so eager.  Eager for discussion, resolution, something tangible.  And if the invite to drive on does decide, then I fucking will.

What a day… small business notes, talking to that guy at the San Anselmo pub or taproom, whatever it was, kind and talkative and still tending to his emails and work, but somehow making time for me.

Small business after that walk on the Ave has me reconnected to some passion reminding me of how I felt living on campus.  Not sure ow to discern or spreadsheet it, but there is a connection, a vertices of some kind.

Bought a copy of Aureluis’ Meditation from a book store on the same street.  Tried to read it in the pub but left my fucking glasses in the car.  Have them on now.

Yers, I’m that fucking age now…. I can see it in this picture.  What can I do.

Missing the coast, thinking about tomorrow, but nothing I can do.  Enjoy your night, I say to this writer… dog and cat in other room, fed and content, and me wondering how the day is where it is.

So late.

The clock me mocking.  Ignoring it since I know this writer loses in the end.  Reading the Meditations, inviting everything in this room, this night and moment, and whatever happens, that’s what the Story intends.

Surrendering but not.  The music now has me thinking of me later in life, and how I got here.  Living in San Carlos, high school then college, all the sacrifices my parents made.  And where I am now.

There’s an incongruence… no defamation toward them or SELF, just an adjustment need be made.