JOURNAL. August 2, 2018 Late: The way the day played out, and this time solo, lonely, but in the best way, so I can feel my heart and assess my interest level in all that I do and what I prioritize. No room for much bullshit anymore: friends in my life, loyal (older) acquaintances from around but sharing the same appreciation of it all...those tough guys but so soft hearted...that’s it. And filling my day exhausting ideas, stories, stretching my cul de sacs into roads, into new trails, and in that desert finding what could be golden without being attached to any of it: what comes tomorrow is new and what bleeds over to tomorrow belongs. The rest can Rest In Peace played with well. And writing down all those memories in my journal yesterday, one after the other, whatever came out, what an exercise, what it conjures, and so much I’m appreciative of and cringe to but today lives without shame today is mine in God’s land and I walk in that desert knowing I have water and food (People, God, food, water, the big wave, the hold down, the hand in hand walk on the beach) and knowing full well that at some point I will need it. And to read about little Sam and his rambunctiousness makes me laugh. To picture all the little children around and the joy they bring. Knowing all the while that my wife is happy in the south right now surrounded last night by friend after friend celebrating her feeling special knowing this is a special time and right around the corner are sleepless nights always wanting the best for your child always wanting to be helping to arrive at every needed milestone I am here for you my little sweet Daddy loves you so much already here I am. I read last night and this morning and looked at Hockney paintings and read an Emerson quote to my wife about nature and I’ve gotten bored with the same old bullshit so I’m remembering that I get habitual and that breaking that is essential and a poke to the heart, searching through my interests is so important and always finding my wide eyes in there. The precious present of that. All those memories there. This time and these lists and the remembering that this is icing. Nothing but icing. Sweet icing, no matter.