Notes Weighed

Telling self the new year starts today.

First cup brewed and next to me. Kids awake and with their requests. Feel like a skipping CD, one on repeat and doing some annoying shit that sounds like “bleh-bleh-bleh-bleh-bleh”, or on some other hammering word that makes you want to rip the machine out of the wall and throw it out the window.

Emma requests cereal so I rose and got her some, dry so she can eat from the bowl like a snack on the ground. On the couch. Declaring separation from that desk/table today. No more. I honestly can’t stand sitting at it. Even in the beach house I’m thinking the desk will just be a holding spot. I don’t want to be a writer at a desk, but rather writing wherever he wants…

Missing going to the office, or to San Rafael — Interrupted by Jackie asking incessant questions of Emma — “Emma where you born…. Where is your car…. What are you doing…. What’s your Apple ID?” Part of me gets annoyed and wishes he would just shut up then the other studies his lunacy, his hilarity and worry of nothing.

Moving around more money, thinking of the cottage. The drive down there, the quiet waiting for me. This new year, what do I want from it. And was 2020 the bad? I know I changed as a character, and to Mike Madigan’s advantage… and as an Account Executive for a tech/internet company/ISP, I learned new approaches that I can apply to…