9:37am. Second cup. With a little mocha mix that Mom brought over yesterday. Day 3, no mocha from the coffee brothel. Relaxed, after 6 straight days of wine-centered labor. Shouldn’t say it like that. Day off, either way, lovingly welcomed. Reading the current issue of Poets & Writers. Makes me want to go on a writers retreat, go back to grad school to earn my MFA. Among other things. Love this magazine. Need to be better about reading my issues. In fact, I need to renew. But should I? Dumb question.
Writers Residency, an article titled “Dare to Step Outside Your Comfort Zone,” by Elizabeth Greenwood. Never read a piece of hers before this morning. Like what she says here. Definitely along my thoughts’ lines, especially lately. Need to remove Self from all comfort and usualness. Plunge into Autonomy, away from solicitation for work. So demeaning. Filling out applications, interviewing, trying to prove mySelf to some saggy slobbish clotpole. And for what? The wages here, in “the industry?” Comedy. Thanks for the chuckles. After this entry, straight to the chapbook. Tired again, just as I was yesterday at the winery. Almost the exact, identical feeling. Losing interest in the writing, but not the thoughts. Done with second homemade coffee cup. Real enervation, collapse, approaches. Bent, now. Luckily, the day’s mine. And Jack’s. He, my new little friend, rests removed in his Room. His space, cosmos, terrain. Off to see what he motions…
3:15p. He again rests. And I, fighting the urge to nap as well. My desk, beginning to clutter again. And, I’m getting a little tired of this keyboard. No offense, monster. Off to pen, paper. Had an idea for a spoken word song, but forgot it. Must have not been “worth” remembering, but still I hate when that happens. In the mood for a beer, but will wait. Mom and Dad came by earlier, to see Cpt. J. His effect on all meeting him, stirring for a writer. Is it solely because he’s a youthful character, or is it his already- visible traits, actions, the fact he’s a “cute” baby? Think I’ll name a proprietary blend after him, one day. One vintage. Should text Katie, see what the next step is with our wine. Need to be more independent with my winemaking efforts, though. Not so dependent on her, or anyone. And that’s what real Artistry is–sovereign steps, efforts. No? Another beautiful day. Been inside most of it. It’s fine, having had time to write, relax, get to better know Mr. Jack.
And the idea came back, for my verses. Off to scribble before they again escape. Looking at my winemaking magazine, atop the printer, plus the book Katie gifted me, sitting behind this screen. What should I do first? — Was just startled by a horn honk, outside on Yulupa somewhere. Need air. Need sounds, characters, something.