Track 7 — anti

No wonder I don’t publish traditionally.  I don’t want to be “traditional” at all.  I’m not asking for permission to be published.  I can do it mySelf.  At my age, and with my artistic ardor, I’m not applying.  I’m not submitting.  No galleys stripped from my mitts.  (3/2/12)

Why else I’m not interested in syncing with any “tradition” in my writing, is that I don’t find that “writing” at all.  How is it Art if it’s just safe, something expected?  How is it mine if the manuscript true to my vision is gutted and reconfigured by a death squad of editors that have never met me, sat down over coffee, sipped wine with the pages’ creator?  I’m against anything resembling.  I’m the publisher, now.  The funder, but always the Artist first.

Interesting day in Alexander Valley today.  Met some club members who love our wines and told us how they’ve dropped from their other wine clubs, kept ours.  Made me think of how wine entails family, loyalty.  How it’s subjective.  Art.  How wine enables healthy attachments.  Also made me think of verse, my poetry.  Especially when the man referred to a past vintage of the estate Cabernet as “sipping poems from a bottle.” My coworker instantly looked at me, knowing I’d get something from a Literary reference like that, appreciate it poignantly.  I went to the back, scribbled a little in my little notepad.  Was one of the few times I had today to write.  So busy.  The way I prefer it.  Material, material…

11:13pm.  Should get to sleep.  Tomorrow, pouring in Kaz’s Room.  Those defiant varietal interpretations.  Love how Kaz sticks to his project visions, never second-guesses himSelf, ever.  That’s Literary, the Poetic.  That’s Art.  How Wine should be.  When Wine deserves the capital “W.”

Composition Book on bed with me.  Had rhymes in my head while brushing my teeth.  Now they’re gone.  Hate that.  Think I remember one…  No.  Lost it.  Once I start scribbling, new ones’ll find my brain’s branches.  Need to keep writing, finish this 1st project.  Almost done with the rough draft.  Have the money set aside, so I only need to edit.  Then release.  Thinking only 20 copies with this first mini-manuscript.  Don’t know why I’m calling it “mini,” as the primary piece, fiction, is over 16,000 words.  Isn’t that a novelette?

The ’07 Cab last night was divine, by the way.  Paired incredible with Mom’s artisanal meatloaf.  Dark, thick, deep, mysterious with its night-like fruit, smoky curves.  Just thinking about it wakes me up.  Now I’m in the mood for Wine.  Funny, no?  Today, only sipped some of the ’08 Cuvée, which is mostly Cab.  Same kind of character, but with more prevalence in the way of vanilla, herbal strokes.  Oh, my wine, in that lonely barrel in the St. Francis production facility.  Need to taste it soon.  Monday, maybe.

11:25pm.  Only giving Self 5 minutes till I throw my Self to ink, paper.  What I prefer.  Feel like this computer, this blog, is just virtual writing, not actual writing.  But I have to engage in such in order to have projects out, in order to be a writer.  How to reconcile?  Maybe I don’t have to.  Just thought entertainment, for a writer.  And, I just remembered, barrel tasting tomorrow.  Should make for an entertaining day.  Need to bring cameras.  Still and video.  Characters, cometh.  My pages need new pupils.  (3/3/12)