Ran at lunch, little more than 5k.  Challenging SELF to at least 5k/day.  Today’s run was a bit of a struggle.  Hot, and I felt tired, or even out of shape.  Not sure why.  Slept fine last night.

Leaving at 4, I think.  Or close to.  Getting Emma and Hen at 7:30, then to the loft.  Going to miss the Nurse, and it’s hard to think about.  So I force myself not to.  Just rereading her texts and drawing out a book on us, her, how we met, dinners like last night where we found conversation with this other couple.  Was the girl’s birthday.  Becca.  Her fella, Jeff, a car mechanic.  We parked in the same lot, walked together and laughed.

Goal for tonight, work in 3rd floor office, on the mini-laptop meant for book Composition.  And whatever content I can find.  Adding to the playbook the other day, how content should be truthful.  Even painful if needed.

Everything is material, everything is education… something I wrote the other week on a singular paper piece and put here below the monitor in Vacaville.

Content… creation… exploration… experimentation… the drawing board methodology and practice, perpetuation the Story.

Learning from the Nurse and her language, value of Truth.  Her story.  Keeping specifics here with me but I react and reflect, deconstruct and read again.  Me-Meeting surrounding.  How am I different.. so many ways.  Like tons of ways, dozens.

Maybe fucking hundreds.

LoFi on, this writer relaxes, finishes his second sparkling water.

WORK, I tell myself.  Write it again in the Company notebook.  Student I just had, based in SoCal, our discussions, getting me lively, like I can do anything.

Anything I want.  And I can.  I fucking WILL.