I’m making coffee right now. It’s 9:23pm, and I’m probably going to pay for it tomorrow, but hey—when you’ve gotta get some writing done, you’ve gotta get some writing done. I’ve transformed my desk into a real work station finally, I’ve got my keyboard—the one that’s led me through all my work through the years hooked up, my audio interface in ready at a moment’s notice, and the big studio headphones I have do a lovely job of sealing of the world when used with Spotify.

If you’ve noticed (or even care), I haven’t posted another entry for Datum yet. The two chapters I had written sprawled away on me, so I had to take a moment to plan the story out. The good news is that I’ve actually managed to do that (for the first time ever), so there will be plenty more on the way, hopefully more regularly too. But, that story is for me, really. I know people read Fat Dog for these posts, and I cannot overstate what a wonderful thing they are for me.

I started this journey of five-hundred words a day on July 24th. It’s now August 22nd and this is the twenty-fifth post in thirty days—83%. Not a perfect record, and far more than I thought would happen., but it's not good enough. This has become a nearly indispensable part of my days, allowing me to decompress or just explore some thinking in a real way. I’ve noticed that if (like today) I take my sweet time before getting to the writing, the well is nearly dry. It’s like work keeps my thinking compartmentalized enough that when I get home, the flood gates open.

Last night I worked late and picked up some groceries after, so it was twenty to nine before I was able to sit down. I had plans to be somewhere at nine-thirty, so I had to eat and write at the same time. The reason I bring this up, is because I sat down yesterday much like I did today—with no subject at the ready. Within minutes of opening the Word document last night, I was writing about my dog. Today, I stared at the page until I decided to write the next thought that came into my head, leading us here. These posts, to me, are essentially about nothing at all, but it’s good to see where they happen—what causes the lull in subject matter. I need to stockpile thoughts for these moments. I used to carry a small notebook with me at all times and jot down anything that I thought was funny or thought-provoking, these days I’ve had way too much confidence in my own memory and have lost some good ones to my space case of a mind.

There, a new challenge for myself. I guess this wasn’t a waste of time! Hurray! Starting tomorrow, I’m going to carry a notepad with me. I’ve got one that’ll fit in my back pocket and I’m already neurotic about my pens, so I’m set. Hopefully that means these posts will be a little meatier in the future.

Ugh. I pour this beautiful cup of coffee and take a sip. Five-hundred and thirty-four words later, I take another sip.

Coffee might have been a bad move.

See you tomorrow.