Thoughts. The composition of thoughts, then deconstructing and exploring the composition, each contributing stand in what assembles to comprise that thought. What I thought about on the way here, to the office. Coffee finally at my right, after the cup I made earlier was watered down and not at all at hoped-for/needed temp. Thinking of a publishing house, one small and independent, memoir and poetry. Never having to seek a publisher. Did some arm workouts this morning, and now at the end of a 14-hour fast. Feeling quite together, character-driven. Feel the hunger and am a bit tempted to break fast, but won’t. Refuse.
8:51. Here tomorrow. Running tomorrow, first run since race last Saturday. Legs are nearly completely back together, run-ready. Want to diversify workouts, not be so cardio-heavy. Today, I wrote in the Germany Journal, is Day 1. Day 1 of what, don’t know yet. Of how many days, don’t know that either. Starting to see the grand consolidation of everything Sonic and all matters Mike Madigan.
Sip coffee, hearing co-workers talk. I’m in character, right where I should be. Last night’s Grenache, making me realize the importance of travel and adventure, music, speaking, ideas, the composition of thought, thoughts.
9:04. Hunger speaks to me but I thoroughly ignore. Breaking in a bit, around 9:15. Going to the new Zen Cove that was finished the other day, seemingly for me—what I have in my head, that is for me, for writing poetry, for building my publishing house. Was paid today, but not as much as I thought. Nice paycheck, but my math was wrong no surprise.
Nearly done with a poem. Part of book. Part of something. Sip coffee hoping it not just suppresses appetite but immediately puts it to immediate death. What to have for lunch in field. Don’t think about it. Words, if anything.