7/8/12 — Again, hunched over, typing.  What if I just stayed home, wrote.  Or better, called in on the way to work, stopped at a coffee spot to work on mss [manuscripts, for all non-writers reading]?  My Friday, this Sunday, today.  Already past 8a.

10:42pm.  Proud of Self.  With the exception 2day’s above lines, wrote almost exclusively poetry, today, while at winery.  Finished a 16-line piece, wrote a couple additional rhymes when back home.  Retiring to rest early, aiming to wake at 5:15a, Barleycorn-like.  Again, only verse.  Tomorrow, only goal, 3 poems, printed.  Could be pieces I wrote a while ago.  Doesn’t matter.  From now on, 3 poems printed per day-pulse.  Now, rest.  Sipped a little more more of last night’s SB.  What a colorful display of a wine.  Need to buy a couple more bottles, when these chapbooks can fund such.  Bona sera, reader.  Thanks for being so patient with this ever-impatient Artist.

7/9/12, Monday.  However, Saturday, to me.  And so happens, back to poetry, almost exclusively.  Not so much experimenting with subject, meter, or rhyme as I am FORM.  Different length lines, stanza lengths, what have.  On my 3rd coffee cup this A.M.  Resisted compulsion to get the expected morning mocha from that coffee brothel.  My friend Lacey, however, did give me that 12-pack of assorted beers.  Excited to try some out, as I’m again tiring of wine.  That SB last night, however, has me more than eager to produce a bottle of mine own.. the one I WILL produce this harvest with Kaz.

So after these morning 500, I’m going to time mySelf on how quick I can scribble a verse.  Why?  Not sure, just something I want to try.  Another avenue to explore with verse, spoken word.  Overcast outside, but it won’t be ‘round long.  The news this morning promised temperatures in excess of 95, for week ahead.  Great for grapes, assuming canopies have been managed appropriately, but not so for the writer.  Want the rain to return.  Also saw on this morning’s reports that a baseball game in Texas was stopped due to lightening strike, loud thunder clap that made players scramble to their respective dugouts.  That would help me–those sounds, rushing drops–my paginated mood.  Never knew how to handle heat, as its relationship with my pages go, at least locally.  Now, when I’m on the road and temperatures elevate, and I’m by ocean, sea, lake, even river, I’ll know how to respond, as will the pen.  But this, here…  Need ideas.

Just had memory flash.. that guy in the St. Francis tasting Room I saw pour for himself.  This was in ’09, well after 4pm, and this character had definitely enjoyed impressively proportioned tastings till that point, we all knew [we all joked, guessed how many other Rooms he’d been to, prior].  I remember telling him he couldn’t do that, and that we both could get in trouble.  Then, went to the other end of the bar, well away from where he was by the entrance end, to pour for some other visitors.  Just as I returned, he did it once more.  I merely warned him again, brought the bottle behind the pouring bar to the back counter, which I should have done the first time he offended.  Not sure why this leaped into my Creative absorption, but I’m enjoying the image again.  What could I do with this, if anything?  Either way, you know, reader, what I’m thinking, seeing…

New music, low, in Room.  Jackie, asleep.  His new sounds indicate he’s trying hard to, getting closer to actual communication.  Or at least I think.  He already shows persistence as a character, determination, inspiring focus.  I credit him with my re-immersion into poetry’s cradle.  This first little album, or collection [anthology?], of verses should be done by Wednesday, when back behind bar.  Which again makes me wonder, how DO writers spend 3+ years on ONE project?  I’ll never get that, at least with how my thinking works, with my process, with my speed.

characters from yesterday: Canadians, telling me how they lived in Italy for five years with their children; how they loved Italian blends, varietals, especially when paired with authentic Tuscan dishes.  Made me think of what I would write, exposed to those elements, interactions, images, tastes, “pairings.” [9:46am]