How I am with myself, the inward scribbles and talk, how it forms and the resulting tangibles.  Wish I could spend the day tomorrow in content production mode, but no.  Office.  Meetings.  And more meetings.  All the internet talk.  Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but this Professor Mikey drawing board is electric and like a simmering and scolding pan.  Sautéing all possibilities and marginalia from the journal.  New day.

Haven’t talked to my sister in a while I realize.  Wonder what the winemaker is up to these days.  I guess Harvest, right?  Wouldn’t know.  Haven’t talked to her.  My wine story, thinking of returning somehow, in some shape, for a book, or documentary, probably that as writing needs to be in response to something setting me on fire.

Anymore, just sitting down and being like, “Okay I’m going to write for 20 or 30 minutes,” not working as it used to.

Be adaptable, as the Company says in its ‘Core Values’ thesis.  Done.

Walking to check the mail.  Would love a beer, honestly.  Missing the Nurse.  She messaged me saying she has a patient after I sent her something playful and antagonistic.  Love that girl, I seriously don’t know know what life was before her and how I even enjoyed it.

I promised her today to call her more, and not just text.  Too much can be misunderstood, and there can be inferences unintended and translated oddly.  We’re learning, her and I.  Well, definitely more me, but still… there is education in our relationship.  Grateful.