This morning with beats in my ears, poetry on mind, latte right. 

Need today to do something–  I’ve written that sentence before.  And I’ve written that I’ve written it, before.  Love the office on Saturdays.  Quiet, slow, more my beat and roll.  No rush, or at least not immediately.  No one competing for this nook in which I now sit and type with this music in my ears like a reclusive meditator just waiting for his work week to end.  Not me, do note.  When here, I’m more creatively antagonized than when not.  And, I see more of what work should be for people.  Work, the word, has a feeling around and surrounding it.  It shouldn’t.  We should all without one appearance on planet do what we want for “work”.  Finally now, at my older age, I am.

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In another 14-hour fast.  Made exception for latte.  Nearly broke the fast yesterday but did force self to see it to minute last, eating the snacks healthy I bought from the Novato gas stop.  A banana, Cliff Bar of chocolate and peanut butter, then another bar which conceptually is healthy, somewhat, but I’m sure the sodium numerics on it and in its shape were rather substantial.  Nothing I can do now, but learn, reflect, think about day’s eating strategy.  But not too much.

Running tonight.  Nothing this morning.  Woke as soon as I heard the alarm, shut it off like a badgering sink noise and went back to bed.  So on into the day with a perspective of hunger.  Listing what I want, and what I want is simple.  Not it here framing, but it’s in my thoughts.  Monday off from school.  Some president’s holiday.  Think Washington’s.  Have to wake at 4, that day.  Go to gym then come home and make a meteor’s dent in book.  A compositional crater, assuring me I will finish.  Thoughts and how thoughts within them and how the pieces of those thoughts should be deeply and thoroughly, intimately, considered till you can’t get any further into them.  And when you can’t, why….  Deciding to get to work about an hour early and spend my time writing.  To keep with my writing habit but as well write out aims and visions for day and onward.  Why– So tell self, reasoning to acquire each aim.  To pass it and bask in the purposefulness of reaching them.  Lunch alone, only words for your lunch.  If you eat, get something from market here in office.  Write more when back in office.  Lectures… on writing and the principles of Emerson, Kerouac, other writers and thinkers.  Tonight after run, READ.  Take notes.  Do what you urge students do.

Shifting the ship, all of it, all of its momentum and inertia, its potential energies and other.  Life head, look to parking lot from my little nook, here, and finally sky.  No rain, no clouds, no more of what we had.  I’m promised Newness in the day’s shine and beat.  More music.  More words.  More verses and collaborations internally from my dimensions.  I’m having everything my way, in all ways, all creative strays.  Start writing my “speech” for the upcoming competition or whatever it is.  Not too sure.  Will write essay form, of course as I am more or less an essayist and diarist.  Read from it, or not.  Maybe just study it.  Or not.  May just speak in the moment as I did the other day on Madness and Kerouac.  There is no time to plan, no time to excessively deliberate and study, or look for some safety or guarantee in knowing.  Sometimes, often now I’m very much appreciating, you just have to do.  Like Dane toasted, make it up as you go.  So….  Into my day with such freed perspective from my Now.  The Now, a gift and a lesson to itself.

Poems.  In everything. The latte, my sentence stray, my gaze out the window from the pavement low to sky’s blue imbibe.  Me on a new ride, hear self relief-sigh.  I’m not performing, we’re all performing, and I see we can all have what we want.  Sometimes a radical shift is required. Make it.  Try it.  Just keep with your creative wave play.  There’s nothing that truly has the ability to definitely stop us, but death.  And if you’re reading this, you’re living.  So live.  Live madly.  Everything in your life is poetic, is musical.  In business, personal matters.  Don’t just make a drastic or radical shift.  Subscribe to it.  Convince yourself of self, then reassign your narrative to new Roads and wandering tangents and directions.  Much of self-education, is whim.  Just going.  Going out there, finding those new experiences, that Newness and building from it.  This morning, there’s Newness, new articles and lessons, challenges and stations in heart, thoughts, self.  Your scene is new, so… study it.  Act from and within it.

 

I look at the time and know I have to soon be at desk, working.  I will.  I have to.  The education here is far too great.  The philosophy, I guess you could say, but the thought encouragement.  What Sonic tells you to so, sonically and not.  Your own music and chasing down gems that promise more music and development of character and inner, and outer, community, togetherness.  Just as this company was built from impassioned singularity, I and others working here, the like profess and progress.  It’s not just work.  It’s not work, at all.  Not what I do, or even who I am, but some metaphysical stamp and loving enclosure that you don’t want to qualify or pause, certainly not reject.  And, honestly, not even accept.  You allow it to intersect with you steps and enjoy the music… avocational delightfully situational orchestra.  Situational, as the story, LIFE, is abbreviated.  Just move, don’t think.  Don’t think about overthinking or worry if the thoughts are the right ones to be now having, Sonic tells me.  Just create, work, speak, narrate where you are, what you’re doing.  That’s music, that’s Life, purpose, immediacy and pages and page of knowing Now, your Now.

2/16/19

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