Stop alarm. Flex fingers. Glasses. Sip from orange nalgene on nightstand. Unhook dog kennel. Open back door. Wait for dog to pee. Close bedroom door. Mouse mump sleeping. Turn on light above stove. Fill a pot with water. Turn on stove. Put coffee grounds in filter.
Break iPhone fast.
Read yoga studio owner’s comments on NFL kneel. Look for my headphones. Where are they? Yesterday’s short pockets. Put headphones in phone. Slide chest harness on dog. Fill dog’s bowl of water. Should've done that earlier. Tell dog to sit. To eat. He’s not hungry. Something is wrong.
Pour steaming water into coffee filter. Wait. Pour more. Add cold water. Sip. Wait for the rest. Been burning my mouth lately.
Walk dog. Talk into my phone. Thank God for headphones with the embedded mic.
Let mind wander.
Yesterday there was a picture of somebody’s girlfriend. On Facebook. Writing under the tree. I messaged her. Asked what she was writing about. The morning pages, she said. Three pages of steam of consciousness writing. If everybody did that, a river’d run through this. Back to the tree of knowledge. Or ocean.
Today is the second day sans Whole30. Grains hallelujah. Banana muffins are in the oven. Flax, chia, cinnamon. Oats, raisins, peanut butter. Bananas, eggs, vanilla extract.
Still walking with the dog. Phone says .9 miles. Should go longer. I’d run but I’m tired.
The Facebook funeral was a flop. Live video next year. Few came. My sisters. A few friends. That night that my sister asked me about it. I said I think it's instructive. See how many friends you have. She disagreed. Some people don't know what to do at the funeral. What to say. Don't know if it's for real. Showing up is everything, I said.
Dog starting to pull at leash.
Family first. Mouse says this a lot. Which is why we buy car insurance for her uncle even though it's far more expensive than progressive.
It's 546 in the morning. Everybody asleep. The street lights are on. The dog and I cast long shadows. Dreads droop, dreads dope. Still intact. I've wavered. Back and forth. Electric razor still sitting on my desk. I need to give it back to a friend. My step mom, my dad's partner, Laura—I don’t like using any variation of mom since my mom died. She said even not cutting them is a decision. Wise words from a wise woman.
Our country needs to be led by a woman. Around the corner there’s a howling sound little ducks or coyotes or both. The dog and I both look up.
Reading a book about history of drugs. Coffee is addictive. Cannabis isn’t. Which is legally available? I wonder about the future. I mean worry. If I'll be able to keep doing these posts. Every day. Is it putting a certain pressure on me? Or is it good for me? Or is it neither? Just what writers do.