1/1/20

3:35pm.

Watching Emma play with her dolls, in her room. Leaning against the right side of the door frame and wall. Meditation. What to do for rest of the day’s design. How does Mike want to develop as a character, in his story.

Playing at the park up and then down the street, down a little hill,

I’m definitively into my zen tilt and happiness takeover and project.  Sipping Rose in a plastic cup I found in Mike’s cupboard I think about wine and what I want with it.  Again.  Kids unaffected by this, this evacuation.  To them it’s a getaway, a vacation, something that has no flames, or threats, evacuations or dangers.  It’s fun.  They make it fun.  Actually, no, they don’t MAKE it anything.  They just see opportunity for enjoyment, to relax and play on that slide and those swings.

Not going into Sonic tomorrow, and I feel guilty, but then don’t.  I want to and need to be here with the babies.  Write. Get out of my comfort zone as much as I hate that phrase, but that’s just what I need do.  Saw a bench at the park or rather just in the not-too-distant distance in front of and on the side of a large grass field that you might think is used for polo but I think it’s just a grand and nearly overwhelming grass field for kids to play on.  Soccer, chase, tag, what be.

This house I could see as an office, or some property I’d own for either a rental or just an office.  Rather big for just an office but it’s what’s smattered in my inner sigh sense, blogging in here for weeks, just locked in and forcing self to produce a book from the blog.  The blog has to come first, and the realizer and readier for whenever I’m stuck or feel I’m recycling the same sentences, is the Now.  Write the Now.  Where you are and what you’re doing.

Jack and Emma watch the Grinch, one of the dozens or hundreds of versions, and eat some Cheerios from a red cup, the kind you’d see at a frat party.  Jack spills some and I tell him to pick it up and he tells me he will after he comes back from China.  I laugh a little but try to be serious and then tell self fuck that.  Have fun with them.  Be one on and of the playground.

I need to play more.  Not think so much. Not work, but only create, write, stay up late and pepper the manuscript’s streets with verse, pages, my phylum of music.  Keep pushing these keys and refuse to let self stop, the wine tells me.  Don’t allow distractions, obstructions.  Poetry is the vein, the blood, the beat, the blog, the Now ME.

Playing with the wine, the pink puddle in the plastic cannikin.  Turning left, seeing Broncos play Raiders.  Thinking more of my office.. what I want in there.  Anything that antagonizes, promotes, encourages creativity, bringing something to life.  This bought with Sonoma County wildfires plates a dose of déjà vu that I wasn’t expecting, to just live and write wildly and edit nothing.  Kids getting restless, and me too.  To finish this fucking book, and light MY story on fire.  Several fires.  And be so lovingly monstrous that it can never be extinguished.

Cuz F This S …

7/20/19

Saturdays are just funny to me.  I hear so many people around the office talking about “Happy Friday” and “It’s Friday… yay…” or something of such stride.  But this is writing time for me.  Even though I’m not alone, and I’d rather not be and have my babies close by, I seize this time to write and collect self.  When else am I going to do it.  Doing everything I can when in office to prospect and generate business and harness self to this new position.  So today, Saturday, the day of nothingness for so many, is my day to WORK.

Need more caffeine, of some rile.  Latte always does the trick, but that’ll have to wait.  Need get son dressed, self as well, teeth and out door.  I’ll get him something.  Tell him we need turn off the Harry Potter whatever and of course protest.  Have to be sneaky.  Have to be new character… re-write, as I just posted.  This blog now becoming my notebook, evidence of studenthood, how I’m always such with these kids.  Being a student is more a job that your eventual job, I’ve always thought and am reminded.  Here, now, at this counter.

Kids eating

breakfast, starting their Sunday with admirable intention and discussion.

Jack makes himself a checklist, writes a story on legal sheets.

Keep forgetting I’m at a winery, today. What does that mean?

Made self a list, after reading Jack’s.