swimming for IT

7:56am.  Today, Jackie’s first swim lesson.  Don’t know how much of a lesson it’s going to be, but he’ll be in a pool.  He’s growing faster than I can document.  But maybe I haven’t been trying.  He, like a vineyard row, just progressing, getting to where he wants to be.  On my agenda, PRINTING.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the 51 page chapbook.  And with yesterday’s tips, I’ll be able to run 10-15 copies for a soft release.  Would like to fit in a run, but I don’t know if that’ll happen.  Having a beer at 5p with AV Winery’s GM, just to catch up, hang out.  And I’m only having 1 beer, as I need to–HAVE to–finish project R today, without any slice of fail.

My Saturday, most people’s actual Monday.  Like that, a little.  Other times I’m just confused.  These “posts,” going to for the most part be shorter, around 300 words, as I want my efforts concentrated on books, verses.  That’s the best way for me to combat excess domesticity, finally get on the Road.

10:52am.  Back from splashes, little laughs, new introductions.  Jack didn’t cry a single microscopic water drop.  Me, for some reason, tired.  Not much motivation to write.  Just started on the mocha, maybe that’ll help [usually does].  Following this entry, I’ll be organizing past entries, searching for others I surely forgot about.  Hate how my writings perpetuate in scattered lathers.  Need caffeine.  Hearing my fingers punch these buttons, beginning to annoy me.  Need the Comp Book [ugh, need, need, need…].  Right here, next to foot right, in black bag.  Managed to condense a miniature office into my portable leather container [not sure if it’s real leather].  project R, to be finished tomorrow–well, the first steps.  Still so excited I can barely continue with this abstractly evasive ambiguity.  Think Stanford, Stanford…

Again having fantasies of travel.  Not vacation, at all.  Moving about for sakes of material accumulation.  And wine doesn’t have much to do with these aims, if I’m allowed to be honest here.  Why does wine, its ever cloaking “industry,” have to be blended into my entries?  I’m after experiences fresh, unfamiliar, rich; clear-headed.  Yes, I’m holding onto the image of me sipping something red in my hotel Room, late, while putting pen2paper.  Or typing.  …  Just found some more valuable writings for the chapbook.  So thankful for the $65 in tips I pocketed yesterday.  $65…  Let’s see…  If I have this first book be 51 pages of content, I should budget $6 a book, right?  No, $7, in case binding runs a little steeper than I in head estimated.  So, that would be 9 books.  If I sell them, all 9, for $12, that’d amount to $108, $45 of profit.  Not that much, but I have to start somewhere, sometime.  As in NOW, HERE.  Like Dad always says, “You can’t just go from 0 to 60…” Have plenty of writing, time to publish.  I know, I’ve said I’d do it before, but thinking of my sister’s advice, in that St. Francis lab, has me feeling more confident, assured that I just need to do it.  Again, her words: “Don’t second-guess yourSelf.  If you second-guess yourSelf, you’re never going to make wine.” If I just keep stashing all this writing away, never releasing it outside this “wine blog,” I’ll never be a true writer, the one I want to be–one with a book armada at a reasonably young age.  Another mocha sip..  Off to the verses, song.  Want to see stages, elsewhere, be on them.  Image of that 20s-something lady at Doc Holiday’s, karaoke-ing Nas’ “One Mic,” last Thursday night, in vision.  Precisely what I don’t want to be–one covering someone else’s song, or standing on stage amusing musty clowns at some devilish dive bar.  I’m serious about my Craft–OBSESSED–serious like Nasir Jones.  Want to watch that documentary about him again, today, at some point.  If I can.  Need to keep my 2do lists short as possible.  Focused, if I’m going to read to sizable crowds, sell out venues.

On a bit of a roll.  Not sure what towards, but that’s how I feel.  Should I stop writing?  Said I would, around 300 words.  Didn’t I?  Always used to tell my students, “Stay in the chair.” Well, I can remain here, just journal jump, can’t I?  Now the caffeine’s speaking to a Writer.  Have this ongoing wish list in head, as you know, reading all these entries.  Travel, house, new car, poetry collection…  Know where to start, but don’t.  Sure Kelly would say something like, “Just do what you feel’s right.” Or, like she often throws, “Just see what happens.” Think I’ll hit 2,000 words, if I keep this up.  Alice is set to go for a walk with one of her “mommy friends,” as I call them, in a few hours.  That’ll give me at least an hour to get the daily thousand in, for a chapbook.  Need to start a new document here on the monster, which I hate doing, for this first chap.  What if I don’t follow through, further scattering and duplicating my efforts?  What if I create more 2B forgotten?  Did I really just write that, that “what if” hogwash?  I’m doing it.  Now.  51 page draft, due by 11:59p tonight.  Need to be more confident, charismatic, like that Chardonnay I last night sipped, and sipped.  Definitely having a Chard on my list, in my tasting Room.  Not doing full ML.  Probably around 80%, partial stainless, the other used French.  But, again, will have to talk to Professor Katie Rose.  Caffeinated now, that’s for sure, with the attention span of an A.D.D. goldfish.

Already wearing off, this mocha, just when I started to trust it.  Just checked on little Kerouac, still very much in sleep after his inaugural swim session.  That woman yesterday, think her name was Liz [should have written it down..], her analogy with Human character development, strained vines, now all about this scribe’s mind.  If I leave writing off this monstrous “blog,” keep it handwritten, I’ll be more pressured, stressed, STRAINED, to type then disseminate it.  I hate how so many of my scribbles have done just to be unsung.  Horrible, how anti-Literary…