Athens – sit, sip, scribble; all journaled

6/3/12.  Failed at 4am rising.  But the alarm did go off.  Don’t know why I say it like that, when I clearly failed.  Today’s goal, find a place on globe [ONE!], do just an eyelash width’s worth of research.  Has to be somewhere new, not on the list.  Well, I’ll be quite confessional when I say, “There is no actual list.” So, I might pick a place I’ve mentioned in a past journal page.  And forgot.  Athens, Greece.  My day’s travel obsession.  Can see Self taking pictures, but that’s not what I want to do, really.  I just want to write there, have the pages be my film.  Heard it’s otherworldly, along those cliffs.  I’d probably take my camera, one of them, the one Dad borrowed on his recent Europe adventure.  This desk, its clutter, again bothering me.  Cleaning it off later, minimizing.  The Poetry file, to right, the “Wine Bar/Winery/Wine Biz Brainstorms” folder just under my chin.  This moment could be telling me something.  To do something.  But what?

Clocked in at 7:59am, forgot to note.  Going to cut back on mochas, just make coffee at home.  That’d be the more Literary act, I believe.  So much time wasted just standing in line.  Then waiting for the drink to be made.  And if it’s composition is skewed, as my mocha the other day was, sitting in cup a peppermint mocha, I found while driving [forcing me to turn around, re-enter line, be late to work]…  You know what, no need for analysis.  It’s over, my frequenting that corporate coffee coffin.  While in Athens, I’m reading, looking over the waves, wishing I could just stay; have my characters reside here.

Am I throwing away these writings, by posting them onto a “blog?” Yes, in one respect.  But I don’t have a choice, really.  And, I’m the brand; what I’m selling.  The writing doesn’t stop with page.  It carries with this Author.  Looking through blinds, beautiful.  Haircut, run later.. details you probably aren’t desperate to read.  But that’s what I’ll be doing.  Tonight, NO WINE.  Going to again shoot for a 4am rise, come morrow.

With Little London down for his nap, I don’t want risk waking my little friend over the coffee I crave.  Yes, I’ve already devoured the mocha.  Just thought about sending a chapbook to print.  The cost, the time…  Need to “market” Self more effectively.  Get new cards made.  Or do I?  The ones I have now boast in the card’s upper portion.  Which I suppose if favorable, since I do want that to eventually be my official Wine Business; online, brick-and-mortar.

Looking up Athens…  Have to go, soon.  What would I pack?  Only the most minimal of minimal.  What would I need, other than paper, ink, the little camera Alice bought me a couple xmas’ ago?  The ruins…  Not “ruins” to me.  Not at all, actually.  They hold promise, futures; They’re provoking me to freedom.  No more boxes.  No more wine “industry” nonsense.  Everything catalyzed, here, at Erechteion’s porch.  Don’t need music.  She’s singing more than I need.  Don’t know if this writer’s ever going to board than plane.