Feel strange, for some reason. Opening day of olympics. But I’m more interested in the Dodgers-Giants game. Busy in Wine Club Room, but not too crazy. Debating on what I should do with yesterday’s 1100+ words. Should I post to blog, or put in book idea. Had a thought, about all these wine country businesses, be they restaurants or trinket and clothes vendors, having their businesses shut down by the economy. Can’t remember what it was, but it makes me think about other dreams in my fantastic leans. This Art of mine, or these pages at least, will always keep in their pitches. Difficult to write with little Jack next to me, in his irritable picks. Would have written more today, but time, the schedule’s assignment for the writer wouldn’t allow. Fine. Wasn’t much to write about in character’s corral, anyway. Wasn’t like the day Risa came in. Wonder what she’s doing right now. Writing new verses, choruses for her releases? Just thinking about her, her title of singer/songwriter, makes me want to start & finish a single spoken piece 2nite. And I will. My assignment. Was watching an interview on one American athlete competing in the olympics, with her coach saying how her strong student is consummate athlete, all days. As be this penman, with his writing. Need another glass of the Cabernet. Wonder what mine’s doing in its barrel, at the St. Francis facility. Only Katie would know.
Getting ready for my night’s song. With Jack down-winding, I re-focus on how he feels so safe in his papa’s grips, laying his head down, always down to shoulder right; me carrying him upstairs, to his little bed. Now, sipping sparkling wine, from a couple night’s ago. Still watching the opening ceremony, all countries marching in their prideful traipse. Getting tired, not sure I’ll finish the night’s song. But I’ll start it, definitely. One song a day, at least, for the next week… Let’s see what I produce. Will even start a new document here on the monster, put it on the desktop [a list of every track, after completion], to make sure I follow-through. This sparkling wine, should have saved for the day I cross line, from clocked days to beautifully adopted strays. Tomorrow, behind main bar. Looking to write a full piece, note-form, in today’s newly-purchased little pages.
Think I may have lost some writing from today, on this laptop. But I can’t remember if I saved it or not, which is why I think I may have “lost” it. Hate that. If I would have hand-written it, this wouldn’t even be addressed. Read an interview with Stephen King years ago, where it was recorded he tended to write on paper before typing his works. That’s what I need to do. In religiously resilient presence. Miss sitting down, in total quiet, with only pen. Off to my night’s song. Know I won’t finish, but I’ll start. Initial rhyme: “Me, bite, after even a wee hike of 3 nights…”