NewWineDiary, 5/9/12, Wednesday.

8:01am.  Just back from getting Starbucks.  Should get on the road, but I figured I could fit in 10 minutes or so of writing.  That’s what I’m saying, always trying to express:  It’s always in my thoughts, always something I want to do when I have a free breath set.  When at the dentist, waiting for car repair to be finished…  And now, even when in line at Starbucks, in the mini-notebook.  IF only I could just spend today’s 8+ hours at these keys.  Or in the Comp Book, which I haven’t touched in a while.

Wonder what Dad’s doing right now in Europe.  Can’t remember if he’s still in Austrian Alps somewhere, or in Munich.  Thinking the latter by now, as Mom’s headed over to Europe right now, specifically destined for Europe.  Travel, travel…  The gentleman from yesterday, from Mexico, has a house in Miami, and is constantly in movement.  Same with the Slovenian bloke, always in flight, on road for his wine business.  Why am I having trouble crossing that line, I’m wondering.  Not having trouble, just need to brand a little better.  Well, a lot more frequently, that’s for sure.  MIKE MADIGAN…  vinoLit, bottledaux, 1StopWineBlogShop…

Been dipping into stash, lately.  Mostly for coffees.  And this morning, in a couple minutes, gas.  In fact, I should get over to the gas station.  Oh, and my mocha’s still in the car.  Yes, leaving…


10:23pm.  Taking yesterday’s thousand meant for blog, throwing it into book idea.  Sipping an ’08 Cab now, thinking of my two days off ahead.  Need a solid, irrefutable goal.  But what, for my “weekend?” Tonight, plan on staying up late, listening to music, buying new songs, writing rhymes in Comp Book.  No more writing for free–I know, I’ve said that before.  I’m writing for my Life, to make money, be completely Autonomous in my Art.

Hot in house.  Not thinking straight.  After another sip of this ’08, I’m in my trait.  Jack, upstairs, asleep.  Much louder with his vocals, especially today and 2nite.  And on the note of family, I found that Mom leaves tomorrow, not today.  The phone rang, shortly after dinner, a pasta salad Alice made (recipe from her mother), Alice saying, “It’s mama,” meaning my mom.  Sure enough it was.  Mom expressed excitement in her journey ahead.  She’s not delighted with waking at 3:30a for the drive South, and I can’t blame her.  But, she does pick up Katie, Aunt Terri’s daughter, somewhere in Marin County, and Mom said that she could drive the rest of the way, to SFO.  Mom also told me she spoke to Dad, and that some of the sights he and uncle Brian have absorbed, have been “bucket-list worthy,” to use Mom’s paraphrasing of Dad’s expression [Although I know Dad, and I’m sure he used that phrase, in his vocally poised profoundness.].  That’s just what my writing needs, the EXTRAordinary.  Normalcy may be terminal touches to my Craft, I’m now realizing, fearing.  Excited for Mom, Dad, Uncle Brian, Katie.  But shriekingly jaundiced, just jealous, I’ll concede.

Not much more than 100 words left…  This ’08 Cab, better by hour.  Dark, black licorice, wild villainous berries.  Makes me want to write verse.  And I will.  That’s what’ll get me to the road.  Not exhaustive prose.  This blog, nothing more than an electronically offered log.  Soon, MY book.  BOOK.  Can’t let mySelf touch the biz stash anymore.  Hope I’m not too low.  Think I should still be over $800, in total.  Need to be over $1,000.  Then, put it in envelope, hide it, forget its existence completely.  Thus ordained…  Off to scribe song.  But, need views, sights…  Adventure.  Dare I say, peril.