Not sure I’ll have enough time to write, as Mr. mini-Kerouac’s a bit testy.  But while I’m at the keys, I can’t help but write about wine, winemaking, Kelly.  I’m becoming usefully narrow with my topical aims.  Mr. Jack, asleep, alas.  Haven’t bought the Comp Book yet.  And, I don’t think I need to.  Need to limit all expenses.  One of the reasons I didn’t go forward with the chapbook, right away.  I’m saddened that I can’t print now, but also strangely relieved.  Don’t have to spend that money, don’t have to store the copies, stress about selling them.  Don’t misunderstand me, I want to print, bind my BOOKS.  I’m not forgoing the Literary substance for something virtual, totally technological.  I just can’t print now.  All I have to do is write louder on these “blogs,” or “wine blogs.” Just as when I make my wine, the palate presence will scream delectable defiance, beg for another bottle opened.

All writing for my character, remaining off-blog.  She need be protected.  No interest in sharing her with anyone, certainly no one in “the industry.” Only the Literary would get her passions, motivations, visions.  I’ll only log when I’ve been in her presence, when she’s been dancing on my pages.  Speaking of music-related essences, I was almost defeated by my distraction in these Wine Bar beats, buying one after another.  Again, yelling at Self, telling fortitude to forward fortified–watch the penny usages.  Funds, limited.  But, the cartridges, my new business cards, needed be bought.  Part of my brand building strategy.  Don’t think I have a “strategy,” or plan, really.  Just to keep writing and pushing the sites’ names.  That’s a start, right?  Why does this have to be so complicated?  Am I complicating it?  Kelly would say “Yes, Mike, I would say so.” That’s what I see her saying, anyway.  How do I simplify?  By just writing, she’s then going to say.  And, try more wines.  Different ones.  As many as I can find, and write about them, in whatever way I can think.

Just opened a Sonoma County Sauv Blanc I found in the wine captain (little fridge…I think that’s what it’s called; odd name though, “captain”).  Not too metallic, nice tropical fruit, a kiwi or melon personality singing with the bright mouthfeel.  Also getting a very soft stroke of shaved almond, if that makes sense, on the nose as well as mouth.  Gentle floral qualities add to its taste performance, expression.  This Sauv Blanc wants to be heard; It’s singing, I’m listening, dancing with her, the ideas she offers.  Speaking the way my character does.  Need now her write, so I can be right…

Sipping slow, as I’m on Jack alert.  He sits calm in his little nest, looking at the shade of his blanket.  He’s thinking about something.  But what?  What is that little mind entertaining?  Thinking he’s enamored with his not-even-5-week-old surroundings.  Is he making mental notes, keeping some sort of internal log?  I could just write his thoughts for him, but I would never…  Not with him.  He’s a character, one quite real, meant to be studied, cared for carefully, attentively, obsessively.

Cheers, my little, very vocal prompt.

I’m thinking of travel.  To parts of South America.  Not staying at some luxury resort.  Not doing any signings, nothing like that.  I want adventure.  A hike somewhere that I’m not capable of imagining.  Somewhere man’s not supposed to be.  Through the jungle like that one blogger I read about, and on which I saw documentary a couple years ago.  I want danger, I want to be on front lines.  Want to record wildlife, like the documentary I saw yesterday at little Kaz’s house.  Adventure, danger…  Can you imagine what kind of pages that would birth?  Drinking my final Racer 5, thinking of work tomorrow.  It’s work.  I know what to expect, what will proceed after arrival.  That’s why the fantasies are so instant, rich, right now, tonight.

Not sure what I want to say.  What I do want, is that hike, through a jungle, with an amazing bottle of Sauv Blanc, for the day.  And some St. Francis Merlot, for darker hours.  Taking a break, will write in fews shorter…

11:34pm.  Too tired to write.  But I think I may be too alive with visions for these writings to sleep.  What do I do?  Need rest for the morrow’s obligations.  “Obligations.” To whom?  Clock out, in fantasy.  1Stop, my Wine business, hatch-ready…


3/20/12.  Up, coffee downstairs.  Not much time to write, as I want to be in AV early.  And, I won’t lie, I want a mocha.  Trying some new “networking” strategies.  Let’s see if they pay off.  Don’t want to dive too deep into them, as I should be writing, not continuously, endlessly editing my “profile” on some “networking” site.  Love quote marks, and I don’t need to let you know that in parenthesis.  Time, 8:07am.  Going to rush downstairs for the coffee, then back up to write for–well, till, 8:30a.

Back.  With coffee.  Should probably just jump in the shower.  Can’t even tell you how much I wish all I had to do today was write, finish page projects.  Meet my own deadlines.  Feel my mood sinking, can’t go further with this thought stream, for writing’s sake.  Business cards, I was just remembering, should be ready in a couple–well, 5 to 7 “business days.” Never understood what that meant.  Does that mean Saturday but not Sunday is counted?  Or does it imply the “regular” work week of M-F?  Or does it involve Sunday, to some?  Anyway, they’ll call me.

If all I had to do was write, add to my logs, or “blogs,” I would set up at the Starbucks on 12 and Mission, the one at which I would session just before Mr. Jack was born.  Used thrive in my nouveau-Lit Lunches, which were as long or condensed as I decreed appropriate.  Wonder what my character is doing.  Not going to say her name any longer, in this log.  Saving all for a well-deserved page plot.  She, an Artist, better than a blog.  Ridiculous to ever see her in a “wine blog,” I say forcibly.  Speaking of Art, I still haven’t gone through the ’09 Paris footage.  Maybe if I have spare seconds, tonight.

Fantasizing, Self-employment.  Day at my pace.  Artistic Autonomy, like —–…

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