Posts Tagged With: Music

1/9/14:  Second Chardonnay glass.  1,000 words this morning reached, in Annadel.  Just sent letter to writing ally.  And now, I can relax.  Well, not really.  Have to edit the last few entries for this blog.  And later, more poetry.  Loving Mr. Kerouac’s writing, in the book I yesterday bought.

But tonight, right now, I’m finished for day.  I want to be lazy, normal.  I’m never lazy.  How often am I “normal”?  Don’t even want to think about it.  Want to note, pen-to-paper, read through this Kerouac collection–  OH!  Still have the poem I wrote in pocket.  Tasted through both my wines again today.  Efrain, the cellar master, suggested I bottle the blend this Saturday, leave the Merlot till later in year, closer to harvest.  But I can’t believe.. I’ll be bottling the NDC in two days, maybe.  MY first bottled wine.  Maybe I shouldn’t dismiss wine so quickly, just stick to my only interest in its world: making the wine.

Also tasting some ’12 Cabs in the lab, then two bbls of ’13 Cab.  Then, shortly after, tasted the two wines E’s making.. a 100% Alicante, then a Zin on mostly new American Oak.  Aromatically, it presented a little reduction (the Zin), but palate-wise, was probably the nicest Zin I’ve tasted.. maybe ever.  And it’s still so young.  Not giving up on winemaking.  It’s too interesting to me, as a writer.. all the components connecting.

Think I may be ready for bed.  Oh please, Craft, let me wake incredibly early tomorrow, to get some work done, finish my letters for this new semester.  10:16PM.. the day’s over.  I’ll re-fixate in the earliest.  I’ll repeat it to Self as I fall asleep.  That’ll have to wake me, right?

know it’s time

to stop when I

feel

forced

especially

by

self

architectural zest, in internal

afforded, but I have

to rent my soul

and the market sours

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midOctober

Transferred the 2k words to book, 41-page project.  And it’s done.  Time, 8:41am, and I’m nearing 1,000 words.  Could be the coffee, could the morning.. could be me.  Not sure I’m concerned with cause at this point.  Started a 500-word paper on Naturalism, its significant to students, readers, on teaching blog.  Feel that it may be part of what gets me to Stanford.  I think.  Could be wrong, but what’s wrong with trying, blended with hoping?

 

Season earlies, not hurting,

but teaching, showing, new green stretches,

glazed, almost closed,

stay on patio, enjoy moment before

numbers heighten–

all touched, as if it were sent from

Yukon, Arctic, somewhere in

Siberia.  Thank you, perfect

beginning. now if I could

just stay here, freeze frozen

frame, for me, to keep, what they could

criticize then.. nothing.  their lips would

be iced still, shut.

Sounds, natural or man, with whisked white

whispers.

 

(10/13/13)

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Pointing

All poetry, no prose.. I chose notably, so closed.

Unload, they froze.

Time running out, but how?  Only a second ago, I left

impressions aglow.  Thorough like Thoreau;

Arrow, bow.  Precisely skate over Arctic ice– isolated,

part with price.. critics feared like rabid bat bites–

however not me; react immediately, clocks cracked–

how these devils are, but I top that..

attitude & demeanor, the bad news infused to deed’s

beaker.. me, measured untethered.  Arguments

implied with convenient skies.. my writing shape, quite

cubist.. only way to be truest, but they’re still clueless.

Depart from heart, emotion.. more than impart commotion–

experimental potion, all pages, syllabic hit– mad as

Lazarus.  Tracked, but I’m packed, ready to leave, need

times-three reprieve– was burned in internal journal hurdles.

(8/4/13)

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31st

Reach to another space–
But I’m afraid of erase.
If I fail, I’ll press delete,
Restart, so no obsolete,
I promise,
To self,
What else is dealt?

Solidly, promises and wishes,
Fall to three.
Pleasing pleases,
Fortune spun for sick seasons–

Decided to stand still, admire perfect walls..
Intimidated by stares of beloved dolls.
Plates broken in floors, slamming invisible
Doors. Ignore the call for to any chores.

(7/29/13)

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journal, 7/17/13

Tonight, one for documentation.  A walk in Annadel with Dad, what the writer needed.  The whole time, listening to his stories, thoughts on matters, perspectives from his Human Experience.  He told me a story about a writer, for some paper that went with out devices for 20-something days.  Just what I need to do.  Honestly, reader, I’ve had it.  Completely.  Want to enjoy moments, and move pens only when I want to– what I discovered writing at the CIA yesterday.

Tonight, sipping Rosé.  Locked Self in castle.  Have a lot about which2THINK.  Too much to catalogue, and I wouldn’t here on blog.  Just know I’m thinking, about and within matters of tremendous gravity.  Another night where I outrun the wine’s effect.  Downstairs, steak and veggies in oven.  Bought from Oliver’s, so don’t think I started cooking yet.  But I will.  Someday.  I hope.

Logged out of ALL “social” [should really be called “judgmental”] media accounts.  And pretty soon, only pen, paper.  IF I do 3 pages for book, it’ll be in the overcrowded Comp Book.  I just think of Picasso, what he did.  Utterly independent of devices, electronics, certainly the devilish internet.  No one could spy on him– he moved brushes, colors, across material’d flat.  That’s Artistry.  Technology compromises Art.. it hinders IT, detracts from IT.

Now, my mood becomes rattlesnake’d.  Judgement, disruptors.. I’m just going to do what I want.  “It’s your Life, you have your choice,” Grandma ordered.  I didn’t write ‘said’ as I’m convinced she wasn’t just saying something, reciting lines, speaking.  She was giving me a direct order.  And I’m following it.  WIthout question.

Have to work tomorrow, but I’m not paying that too much mind.  And why should I?  2nite’s about Art, this moment, in this office.  Took too many pictures with this devil phone, now it doesn’t function as it should.  I swear, revolution’s near…

That forest today.. so perfectly purist.  For both prose AND poetry.  I AM going to sit at one of those trail benches, just write.  The laptop’s stalling again.  This devil laptop.. asking for divorce–  NO!  Ordering.  Need another glass of wine.  And I need to clean up all these items I removed from desk, put to floor.  How does that make sense?  Yes, need another Rosé pouring, some dinner.  Next semester, on mind.  How to convey my favorites: Plath, Poe.. show them more as Optimists, yeasayers.  Not the dark, tormented haunting scribes everyone labels, often dismisses.

9:47pm.  Couple minutes past, poured Self the most obnoxious glass of the Rosé.. and the dinner, amazing.  Have to say I agreed with everything from texture to marinade to intended profile.  And I’m not full/feeling sick, which is nice– no, not ‘nice’.. incredible.  Dad, telling me about that writer, quitting tech, “cold turkey,” as Dad put it, has me thinking.  About more than just my interactions with tech.  9:57pm…  Think the turkey’s cold.. starting now.  Why does Time have to be so vicious?  Maybe it’s my approach.  Maybe I should be more relaxed, not trying always to hit some words counted.

Well.. the writer’s over 500 for this sitting, so I’m off to Comp.  This Rosé.. indebted to my brother, Blair.  Nice balance of thinned Zin/Syrah notes.

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45

8:10pm.  Exhausting day.  No three pages tonight.  Meditating on this blog.  Unfortunate for you perhaps, reader.  Writing begins tomorrow.  Morning, after dropping off Alice & Jack.  going to miss them, yes.  But there’s work to do.  Should be back in chair, at latest, 7:30am.  I’ll have my 4shots while carving the 3PAGES for day.  Have a big group tomorrow, for VIP tasting in cave.  Not exactly thrilled, but I know I’ll gain something from it.

Topped my Merlot today, with more Merlot from Tank 50.  Tasted nice, even better than it did a couple weeks past.  Writing in dark, like I have a problem…

9:46pm.  Not in mood to write.  So why am I writing, or typing, then?  Should go sit on couch, watch some polluted MTV reality show, let my Life fly away.  But have Comp Book on person, like I’m armed in zones perilous.  tomorrow morning’s session, beyond epic.  3PAGES, blog posts, spoken word.  All.  Complete Literary madness.  The quiet, the coffee, the resulting Compositions.  Not thinking about the huge group I have tomorrow.  Not anymore.  Not taking it seriously.  And why should I?

Trip to Napa, Tuesday.. not planning it.  Going to stop wherever I stop.  That’s it.  Want randomness, not the planned blandness.  And dinner tomorrow night, hoping to make quick.  Not rushed, exactly.  Just to-the-point.  Giving my life a review, like a 90-day or yearly review for employees.  Certain things need reshaping, I’m defining.

 

7/14/13.  Back from dropping off Alice & Jack at airporter.  7:32am.  Two minutes late to typing, only ‘cause this devil laptop was giving more grief, atop every other annoyance it’s happy to provide.  This house, disturbingly silent.  Watching one of my writing movies, to ease me into day.  Eating blueberry scone, with 3shot mocha.  Not a 4, as I already had a cup this morning before we left.

Dinner with a friend tonight.  Needing to make it quick.  Want to be seated upstairs, in office by 9:30pm at the LATEST.  And yes, ‘downstairs’.  Haven’t set up desk yet, and I don’t need any more morning anxiety, this morning.  This trip Jack & Alice are taking, without me with them to protect, plus the group I’m hosting today [for some reason.. not sure why I’m taking it at all seriously.. in fact, I’m not, nevermind..], already making heart jump over invisible barbed poles.

Not as hungry as I thought I was.  May not finish scone.  Oh well.  Not like I need it.  Alice taking later bus, disabling run possibility this morning.  Which is heavenly, by me.  Wasn’t in much mood, really.  Need to make list, for this time to Self–realistic targets to hit.  Lots of printing, definitely– BOOK1 [the 59-page project].  Need to sip this mocha faster, feeling tired.  What wine am I opening tonight?  That Pinot by the door?  The Cab Franc Katie gave me?  Don’t know.  Was going to bring a bottle to dinner, but I think I’ll just get a glass.  One beer before, one wine with steak which I’ll more than likely order.

7:41a.  This quiet, so strange.  Miss little Kerouac, his wonderings around the house.  Thinking of my review, yesterday.  Everything went wonderfully, as I have an unusually supportive TR director/”manager.” But I’m caused to give Self my OWN review.  What do I[!!!] want next?  Which direction should I[!!!] choose?  Not what someone has ‘lined up’ for me.  Grandma said, “It’s your life, you have your choice.” So what do I want?  I already know.  I’ve known.  Huh, you know, reader.. so why even address it.  Just letting you know what my brain’s painting in this early solitary hour.

Want to be upstairs by 8am.  Need to prep desk for tonight’s work.  Not sure I’m going Napa on Tuesday– or wait, yes I should.  I’ll bring paper for writing, for the day’s 3PAGES.  I’ll carve them in Napa.  Maybe at the Roasting Company, like old times.  In the box’s territory.  So what if they see me?  What would one of them do?

Nothing.

There, then.  It’s a possibility.

7:49am.  Why does that time look so odd?  Maybe just another odd component of an immensely odd morning.  And no, I won’t write at the Roasting Company.  I’ve done that before.  I need Newness.  Maybe at the Rutherford Grill.  Outside, at one of the small tables, like Hemingway– by Self, glass, maybe small bit, engaged in my work, recording characters, those around, just for sakes of so doing.

Already past 500 words.. forgive me for reporting, but I can’t believe this speed, considering how ‘off’ I feel.  The mocha, singing louder.  Thinking of giving Self a promotion, following review– maybe I should give Self a formal writeup, in this ‘review’.  Point out strengths, weaknesses, take all the trite evaluative steps They do.  Just MUCH better written.  When do I do that?  Maybe tonight, just as this writing retreat starts.  Putting it on list.. just did.  List in Comp Book, opposite side of 3rd from last page.

7:57am.  Unplugging laptop, moving upstairs.  Haven’t finished scone.  Why am I not with usual pastry itch?  Because this morning’s curvingly unusual.  Unusual equals beauty.  Sipping faster, propelling momentum like rogue asteroid towards space’s edge.  8am, going upstairs…

8:04am.  In shower by 8:20a.  Writing movie still on.  Want to hit 1,000 words by shower’s time.  But I shouldn’t obsess over the count, even though that’s part of my voice, I feel.  If I write from Rutherford, who knows what’ll happen.  You know what, consider it planned…  On list.  Item 3.  Much calmer than I was earlier this A.M.  Felt a little anxious yesterday, too, at start of my only mountain tour.  But it away went with the couple chilled water sips that shot into the writer’s inner streets.

Wine, thinking.. what do I open tonight with writing session?  Don’t want to sip too much, though.  Lately, wine, and my preferred artisanal beers, have been slowing me when writing, not allowing mind and vision to fly in beneficial randomness and spontaneity, as it once did.  Need to buy more sparkling waters.

8:11am.  Breaking from buttons.  Need a little still time.. I’ll note in Comp Book if anything of note catches.  Should switch modes, to one ready to “work.” That’ll be in my Self-review– hate that bloody word, ‘review’.  Evaluation, then.. SELF-EVALUATION.  One note.. stop doubting Self.  Just jump.  Start living like more of an Artists, relying less on these vile devices.  Ink, paper, that’s all I need.. that’s what I need to really accept, understand.  As Artist, AND Human.

8:53am.  In departure’s form.  Tempted to get another mocha.. should I?  Or at least a latte, one of those cinnamon ones from VJB.  that’d be newness.  Settled, then.  Thankfully charging phone before I leave.  Don’t know why I’m happy about that, having to do only with device need.  Already taking some items off desk.  Reading this release from 2010, the vinoLitLetterz Issue, the only.. think I might rewrite, blend into 59-page project, probably pushing it over 60.  Oh well.

8:56am.  Should leave soon, as I don’t know what the coffee line’s like at VJB.  Haven’t tasted their wines in I think, maybe, 2 years[?].  They were good, from what I remember.  But I’m in a coffee mood, mode.  tonight, printing, while sipping red, slow.

 

music, every cut into soil

leaves dwindling by deadlines, ignored

repeated measure, untethered weather

write another letter

microphone off

speak louder, like trees obstruct

speak over cliff

speak to IT

 

8:59am.  1,000 words, before “work.” Guess I’m happy.  Would be smiling more if I didn’t have to leave, if I could just stay here ALL morning, day, night.  And just write.  This’ll be in my review, I Self threaten.  Okay, leaving.  Not letting this group today too far into my head.  The latte’ll make sure of that, building instant, well-defended, wall.

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storage full

Taking Jack to Mom & Dad’s in a few.  Need more video content, more documenting, I’m thinking following the documentary I watched yesterday.  Not relying on phone, or any ‘app’, as I learned last week with Sam’s and my broadcast.  Veraison, already taking place, I’m hearing.  Have to get camera ready.  Should probably drop a couple of the photos I shot with phone, for winery.  Don’t need them, that’s certain.  And they don’t enhance my content.

My cousin Nick, just opened up some media/pr/ad firm office in SoCal.  Not sure if it’s his business of someone else’s, but I love the look, layout.  See mySelf closer to MY office.  What else…  Alice just opened door to leave, cold.  Little sprinkles.  Miss the rain.  Would love some on retreat, but forecast promises warmer numbers.

Only a matter of time before Jack bores with his books, calls me over.  Will write later, after run.  And after 3PAGES.  Not sure I’ll post to maddenedread tonight.  Maybe some notes, lecture points I’d hit about Plath– or that I WILL hit, in Fall.  Doesn’t have to be prose.  Think I need another hit of coffee.  Where’s the case to this camera?  -8:24am

8:55pm.  Not getting to 3PAGES today.  Too tired from day, run I just did.  4 miles in just over 31 minutes.  Wanted to stuff the 4 within 30, but started to slow, at end.  Retreat in just under 3 days.  And I’m ready to finally complete the ms that’ll send me, quickly, to road, my office.  Met a couple teachers in tasting Room today.  Had one read the second entry for teaching blog, written last night, while she finished her tasting.  Positive response, citing poignancy and brevity both as boons.  Won’t have time to post again tonight, but tomorrow, possibly morning, certainly.

Sipping some sparkling berry water, just before getting into a little of the SB I was gifted today.  Didn’t film anything today, as I chose to have lunch with co-workers [H & J].  Glad I did.  Needed the break.  Slight breeze, gentle and musical, as we sat there, chatting under the caring umbrella.

Jumping to spoken word in a minute.. the comfort of the Comp Book.  Want more poetry in my Creative Life.  Keep saying that, but always divert to this prose.  Love my entries, but poetry’s who I TRULY am.  So why am I not doing more of IT?

Challenge to Self:  Six spoken word pieces in the next 48 hours.. beginning now.  Or, when I finish this entry.  Have only made 1 plan with a friend during retreat’s reign, Sunday night.  But that will be the ONLY 1.  On Tuesday, Wednesday [my days off].. only Writing.  And PRINTING.  Have to get this 59-page work done.  Meaning Printed, Released, Sold.

Hate this laptop.  Still.  9% battery left.  Now 8%.  This is why all writings should be done on paper.  Only use this thing when I have to.  Another goal for retreat:  Get all writing off this devilish button bomb.

(7/11/13)

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rimez–

No chemical blended pull, dry flight to
The high right– tie tight my thoughts to clouds
Loud. In a deaded know-how.. Research Tao, Dao– my biased sight is
Plighted.. Why talk when I can write it?
My verses, poetry, part of no industry..
Self-induct me.. Velocity, adjusted terminally–

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Triteness Averted

7/4/13.  10k results, I guess mildly satisfied.  I’ll note the numbers later, but for now.. relaxing.  Went into work at around 10:15a, I think.  The Reserve Room, treating me quite nicely, actually.  Couldn’t have asked for more from today.  Well, I could have.. a taste, or ‘revisit’ as so many today said, of my wines.

Not attempting 3PAGES tonight.  No energy for such task.. I know when it’s right, and tonight it simply is not.  Too tired.  At the beginning of the run this morning, I thought I was going to quit.  But what would my son think?  So I pressed on.  Surprised I finished ahead of Carmen, as she’s a far better runner than the writer.  I credit the two runners I met towards race’s end.  One gentleman, whose name I didn’t catch.  I said to him, “I’m going to follow you in.” “Okay, let’s go,” he said.  Then, shortly after, with a half-mile to go, a lady about my age, Heidi, said “We’re almost there.. don’t be fooled by the 5k finish line, just keep running.” So I did.  Surprised how good I did, but I still think I could have done better.  And I, still immensely surprised I caught Carmen.

Celebrating here in home, sipping a Hoptimum, Sierra Nevada.  May have a little red later, but not much.  Want to do a short run tomorrow night, after work, with downed sun.  If I can do what I did today, what else is the writer capable of?  I’m just realizing.  Sipping…

10:15pm.  My time today: 48:52.9 total time, 7:53/mi avg.  Not functioning well in this late hour, after this sparkling Mumms.  No red.  If I were to have that, I’d be flat.  And this is why I don’t much like sipping & scribbling, or tipping and typing, anymore.  After the last few days, of sober sentencing.. I’ve developed aversion to alcohol.  Sipping last bubbling flute, currently.  I’m sure the morning’s run and my no-lunch shift has something to do with, but I’m not regular Literary Self, presently.  Eager for sparkling water.  And run tomorrow, after work.  Thinking another 3 mile sprint.  Let’s see if I can get under 21 total minutes.  Today, instilling nothing but confidence.

Still hear fireworks outside.  Never understood this holiday, really.  I mean, I do, that America’s Independence, from England, is heralded today, every year.  But why do we observe with loud, illustrative explosives?  And tonight on the news, of course a report.  Like it was so different from last year.

Need some water.  Tired, and still seemingly dehydrated a bit from the morning’s race.  Against the advice of a guest on the patio today, who disclosed she also liked to run.. I’m going for 3-4 miles tomorrow.  LIFE, 2short.  And I’m pushing my vessel to brink.  4ever alive.

Beginning to not like any shakes of wine, these small production beers.  Prefer this sparkling water, substance with only beneficial sustenance.  Interesting, this development with me, wine.  Not like its language, what is speaks to my functioning.  Oh this sparkling water.. what I need.  To see.  Watching TV.  Making me sick.  Holding off till morning, for the coffee, what IT does to pages.. only ascension.

My prose, providing the pavonine; multi-shaded.

7/5.  Didn’t like the way the sparkling made me feel last night.  Nor the glass of wine I had at work, that Hoptimum I had right when I got home.  Am I dismissing wine & beer, completely?  Don’t like the control it strips, the energy it carves out.  Something to think about.  Not going to rush-write this morning.  Will continue sitting tonight, to sparkling water.  When I have more time, am not up against their clock.

 

Today: verse, poem.  All day.

At lunch: photog’…

Tonight: light walk/jog; or jog then walk.

 

9:33pm.  Didn’t have a chance to write much verse today, while behind counter.  Not with that caliber crowd.  BUT, did have chance in last 17 minutes of lunch half-hour to capture stills of clusters, leaves, rows.  Ran over 3 miles, walked over 3 as well.  Right knee, speaking slightly.  Tomorrow, no running.  Just realized, on walk back with Hillary, that today’s my 3rd straight, running.  Writer needing break, 24 hours 4ward.

IMG_0584

Met another character connected to Literary realm, today, right before we closed.  Young lady from Sebastopol, with every breath, syllable in her speech euphonious.  Hope she contacts me, as I need more writers around my Now.  Well, don’t ‘need’, just intently, intensely, prefer.

IMG_0586

3PAGESaDAY, restarting with tomorrow morning’s session, sitting with home coffee.  No blog post, just contribution to 3PAGES.  Looking at today’s pictures, reminded of spells in vineyard, between those rows.. how each cluster’s a different paragraph, later contributed to vintage’s book.  Not a novel, but collection, just as I like2write.. our steps each other mirror.  Poems, in each speech frame.  Telling me that tonight’s need could only tower in poetry’s spree.  Pen2paper, no type stripe–

IMG_0591

Sipping one of the beers I bought last night.  But slow.  Ever slow.  Don’t like the way the contents make me feel.  Flavor carriage, only loved.  But the effects, detested.  Not getting to teaching blog tonight, either.  Want my objectives simple, as they will be: blog, the poem.  Done.  Then the writer sleeps.

Should the writer shoot for another run, come morrow?  Make it 4 straight days, then brake.  An idea.  But if this knee still to me speaks, no.

The bottle’s contents begin their ripples.  Again, slow tilts.  And the run’s song, increasing with volume.  Thinking of Paris, what I want to write when there.  On writing retreat, which takes off in 9 days, I want 1 project printed, sold.  Running 30 copies.  No more.  Locking Self into this, so there’ll be no hemming and hawing.  Also on retreat: look into past posts, old entries on blogs, and in those legal pads you–I mean ‘I’–kept while at the box.  If my writing’s to involve Truth, or be stapled in such, I have to be nonlinear, exhaust all feasibles till I’m at Equilibrium.  And people ask me, always, what that is.

 

I don’t know.  I’ll let

you know when I’m

there.

IMG_0598

These pictures today, telling me more, even though I’m quite far from this row, these little reciting clusters.  They don’t fear reaction, observation.. they’re just there, quite boldly in sun.  Envy them, what they embody, what they say, Self-publish.  Wish I could be like them.  They’re truly, Truthfully, NATURALLY Artistic.  More than this penner will EVER be.  But I can still learn from them, can’t I?

IMG_0599

My wines, HAVE to be tasted tomorrow.  So no vineyard walks at lunch.  Taking thief, going into cave’s right channel, tasting from both barrels, a couple times.  Should free some space, tomorrow morning, on phone so I can film my session.  Still very much in mode of ‘capture everything’.  That’s the only way I’l get to office.  -9:59pm

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WheelStop

After 3pages.. I’m horizontal. So
Why do I feel though I’ve done zero?
First thought, insecurity. My genre–
Running to line where I’ll only want2
Sprint more. Then I’ll be asleep–

(7/3/13)

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