Sent flight plan.

Not comfortable in this Starbucks anymore. Too much noise. So, leaving… going back to Sonic base and working in the nook, where I used to post and write, collect self at the beginning of the day. Or maybe I should just stay here. Three off characters just left, that made me a bit unnerved, but I’m here. Want to listen to music and — you know what….

I left. Now in nook. Listening to a Gelka track, surprisingly dubbed “When You Gotta Go You Gotta Go”. Connecting with much in my story now, as you might know. Want to write more poetry. And print it. Sell it. Record it. So why not start with today I tell myself… think I wrote a piece last night, didn’t I? I did. “Before 11 Dark”, I called it. Written in bed. Tonight in class I’m thinking of relating essays and poetry… defining and exploring the definition of poetry, poetics… what’s poetic, what’s not.

In meeting yesterday, peace was stressed. Civility. No anger, no confrontation… PEACE.

ZEN.

Carrying into today. And I know that regardless of what happens I can write through, past, out of and about all of it. That meeting, much of what was stressed, not just carrying into today, but realizing today, giving it more life. Productive this morning but only in seeing certain things in yesterday talk. Decisions can be made which not so much navigate or control narrative, but note new narrative and pronounce new character.

The other day I wrote that all I want to write about is running., True, but not… I write about production. Producing…