More of a life acknowledgment and appreciation.

What I see, day to day.  

Today I attack stress, and give myself some relief.  Breathe, don’t freak out, be more fucking honest with yourself.

This is something that scribbled in my head yesterday, literally writing itself and for some reason I didn’t take the however many seconds it would have taken to write it to journal page.

So, I’m here, doing so about 21 hours later.  Old journals, put in box, going through them slowly.  In one, finding poems written in ’02 and ’03.  I don’t even know, or remember, or can imagine that Mike Madigan draft.

Shredding business cars and old documents.  The aim, FREEDOM.  Even more than I have in this new life, and now since I’m “officially” DI-VORCED.

Nothing new needed.  This writer has everything he needs.  More than he needs, if I can be truly true.

No run yesterday, planning on a gym visit at lunch.  12:00, written in Master Cal – “GYM – Speed work, maybe weights.”

Health… on mind after Nurse telling me about a colleague of hers that passed after not paying enough attention to her own.  Now the story is in my fucking head and I can’t get it out.  So.. I’m moving.  Working.  Prioritizing it— no, more than that.  Amplifying the necessity of health and wellness, and healthy and productive habits like the Nurse a long time ago to me stressed.

Sunday morning, music and a latte.  Consolidating.  These little businesses ideas, on a list, quarantined and not being moved unless a loud need.  And yes, NEED.

Lots of journals.  Ugh… no more.  Promising myself.  Everything going forward, written in one of the half-filled bricks in that box, or just written here to blog.

Portobello meowing, wanting to go outside and of course he catches me when I’m a felt roll of writing.  Not the first time it’s happened, brb…

Oh, and I have to put it to page again, just so I record that I realize —> I turn 40-fucking-7 this year.  FML.

Kidding, I’m grateful to be in the Story still, as healthy as I am, and with all this love and smile-culture and day-to-day with the Nurse.  Okay… one sec— (46/365)

Keep seeing these counts or countdowns on IG, my feed or in Stories, and it reminds me that productivity needs to be intensified every day.  Time of course isn’t forever, in fact it’s a cruel devil.  So…

No overthought.  No excess measure.

MOVE, Mike… don’t stall or stammer.  There is too much wagered, unintentionally or blatant.

Writing with a fanatical freedom I haven’t felt in a couple weeks.  Poem in the EVERY DAY journal.  This smile, refusing to let it fade or even partially dissipate.

(for her)

Your smile and your words

Draw new weather for my cells

and sprit

and immediate room

Promise me you’ll 

haunt my Beat for

ever —