Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Four

1. No. I am sleeping in.

2. But then the blinds opened and all hopes of that are lost.

3. I stick the potatoes and a few strips of bacon in the oven. More water before the first sip of coffee.

4. Morning pages. So much to write.

5. I dial her up. We talk like we always talk—deep and wide. About being black in white spaces. About advocating for your children in systems that aren’t meant for them to succeed. About people-ing. About the correlation between awareness and suffering. About how painful it is to be an artist that sees things no one else sees. About retreats specifically for black creatives. About being fearful and disappointed.

6. I mean. Hammock in late November. Sun on my face. I soak it in because I know the rains are coming.

7. She says to go for a 20-minute walk to shake the words loose. I think it might work.

8. West and Wilder White Wine. We are both a little skeptical.

9. It takes me 2 hours but I give her braids like mine. It will be easier for the both of us. Wasn’t I just saying something about putting in the work upfront in order to enjoy some ease later?

10. Already.