raining albums

Seated for session.  To light rain.  Only briefly, as I crave new songs, those from ME.  This morning and all day.  That’s what’ll carry me to the road.  And speaking of roads, Mr. Kerouac was 35 when On the Road was published, I read in this intro by University of Connecticut English Professor Ann Charters.  But he’d been widely known for Beat life, prior.  Reading this book makes me feel like a student again.  Mentally Alive, just wandering, and wondering, in my curious pursuits.  One of my former young scholars, Becca, posted yesterday that she was in the library over 24 hours finishing a final project, or paper.  I, again, envied her.  Want my only obligation, commitment in life, other than Alice and Jack, to be this page.  That’s Art.  That’s Wine.

Listening to the “Smooth French Café” Pandora station we have playing at work, in the Room.  Doesn’t sound as good here at home, for some reason.  Maybe ‘cause I don’t have the vineyards to stare at, or those glasses to polish.

 

3:08pm.  Watching little Jack.  His powers of observation, reaction, and vocality have elevated in poignancy, remarkably, in the last three days.  Just returned from a visit to my grandmother’s home, where my mother, Jack’s Grandma, was waiting.  Jack napped on 101’s southbound, but once on Enterprise, in Rohnert Park, he was ready for stage.  He and I now listen to the French Café station.  Again, for me.  And now I think about the Kaz meeting this morning.  It’s decided, firmly, from me–  I will be doing a Sauvignon Blanc this year.  He broke down costs, most informatively, helpfully.  I brought the laptop over to this couch’s arm, overlooking little Jack.  He sings with this current track, “Let it Die” by Feist.  And now, he seems unsettled, my little character.  Can only write in these little half-minute jabs.  Some writers view it cumbersome, such circumstance, in having a child.  I quite love the challenge.  But, I do need to wake earlier for some truly uninterrupted pages, longer sessions, especially with finishing official projects [chapbooks].  Closer to 5pm I get, the more I debate with a cup of coffee & glass of last night’s Sauvignon Blanc.  To be frank, I need the vigor that the dark French Roast will inject.  The SB will merely slow me.  Not what I need now, at this hour.

In a minute, working on a project, just to work on something other than this infernal blog.  mikeslognoblog, need to visit soon as well, for purposes of paper-prone projects.  This morning’s meeting with Kaz has me again appreciating the separatist approach to Craft, be it winemaking, writing, painting, cooking…  And I feel this way every time after spending time with him.  He makes me more confident with my notes, verses, notebooks, diaries; In my separatism, Creative defiance.  Will be life-changing, I’m sure, making wine with my brother, just as it was/is with my sister, Professor Kate.  The side-by-side we did this morning, of the Chardonnay types, both 2011–one partially oaked, other stainless–showed me that the more beyond mere mold you go with Creative efforts, the quicker, easier, all else into place, Equilibrium, falls.  Have to start brewing that coffee, finish the last song I started, yesterday.

More and more places, other stages on the travel list.  More recently– Venezuela, Vietnam [can’t remember if this was already on list..], Switzerland, Egypt [this one already one, just re-emphasized], China, Russia (namely the capital, and some parts of the eastern wilderness), Sri Lanka.  MALTA!  Just need to be as non-stationary, pen and notepad in hand, as I can from this day onward.  With the writing I want to put out there, I can’t.  What will get me on the road the quickest, I think, is Spoken Word; the poetry, music.  Need to have that be my Artistic “day job,” and this prose, the blog, be priority’d after my rimed and metered obligations have been met.

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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