Music in everything.  Selling words.. that’s the land I’m trekking toward.

But not just words, vision and practice.  Those habits… self-education tools, if you would.  What’s worked for me. Morning wages, and me here carving new pages. Already five days into the month, the manuscript.  How did that.. whatever, it’s here. Working like the Nurse, all hours, not stopping or wondering when it’s over.  Just move,…

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New wine fridge, in a wine sanctuary…

Wedding gift to ourselves. Love this woman, love our life, loving EVERY day and adventure — every day is an adventure with her — and this will be the forever. DECIDED.

And….

And, what? Drawing circles in the journal, waiting, for some push. Something from the Story itself, to move me. Raining outside, someone playing one of those infernal pinball machines, with all the metallic clunky bang/chong/RING sounds… ugh.  Going back to the desk in a bit. ….. Coffee leaving it all up to me.  Okay…. How…

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When you overthink, and you’re scattered, you’re running place.

Not happening any more, and the Nurse has me with sharper sight and general sense, in my not so humble or subdued opinion. Writing to write, this morning.  A Monday, messages coming in.  I write her another message, smiling when she responds. This is life, I scribble in my journal.  Life, LIVING.. imagine that.  This…

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NaNoWriMo.

And I’m doing it.  And not fucking failing.  All of it on my phone, so no excuse. Motivation from the Nurse, and our life, I can’t ignore it.  And… honestly…. This story. You can be happy, you can be in love, and you can fucking be FREE. 11:04, DST throwing us off a little, but…

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10-31-2026

01:37 This is a first, and an opportunity I can’t let just be an “opportunity”.  Writing through it, even have coffee in concert with the writer. Nurse called in, and as she works so doth the writer. Thoughts in head, probably overthought if I had to be honest.  So I write through it… not listening…

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