Perception, in the kitchen.

Running in the morning.  Ahead on timeline.  IF you could call it that.  Great day in meetings, dinner with parents.  Still hungry but not eating anymore.  Writing novel on her… her… the one wanting more… the character changing jobs, going for creative and not the expected.  I should go to bed, she orders.  I resist knowing I shouldn’t.  In Kerouac beat mode, on beat time.  So what then… more story, more in this kitchen.  Cards for the babies, Valentine’s Day.  What is that.  I’ve never known.

Going to have capping of night, then to bed go… running in morning.  Have to write more on the run, the run is life, is love is reason, is the counter to the counter, the counterargument to anything pessimistic.

Sitting in this kitchen, at the parent’s house… some could judge, and that’s fine.  I’m so focused on my control and centeredness of things.  Some will argue, object and counter-cross-object and puff their legalistic language in so many climates and shapes, but I just don’t listen.  Right now, I’m righted in my Now.

More than simple perception or sight, I don’t know how to define it and I really don’t know how.  I don’t care to.  I think of the poets I study, and the diarists I admire, like Ms. Plath and Pac, Hem with his letters, and Mr. Sedaris, and I find so much funny.  I’m going to delight in life, knowing some will say something.

Distracted by messages.  Should go to bed.  And keep with my stance, keep with my keep, assert the sight and acknowledgement of everything around me.  The world is funny, Humans are funny and barely deserve that capital.  No one in this kitchen but me. Running when it’s dark. So.. go.  Light jazz in back, and me just going from thought to thought, possibility to new newness with this new movement.  Some would maintain a detriment in my narrative, but the peripatetic jabs are only a lucrative tell.  Somehow, they ought be.

Not to

Write about waking at just after 3 from wind.

Driving in mostly dark to El Dorado Hills.

Sipping latte, will need nap later.

May not go into work tomorrow.

New diet starts today–

No dairy, no carbs, no alcohol, no sweets. The latte I’m sipping, the only clemency. Any latte, forgiven. Moderate meat consumption.

2017 all over again. Couldn’t believe that wind. I feel bad joking about it, that it wouldn’t come, that the news was embellishing. Can’t beat myself up. Heard Soda Rock Winery is gone…. Want to move.

Behind in my NaNo

project. Have to write tonight…. Begging the story, my story, to make me write tonight.

Soon leaving for Corte Madera. Opportunity for new business and speaking Sonic, and have people be aware of me and my words.

Latte at home, fans still going drying out the ceiling from upstairs leak. Surprised how that happened, a bother, but teaching me more into homes and real estate, how homes are built and properties and their value… someone’s home, the beaming gravity of such.

I’m not too old for new interests and pursuits, no?