Quick entry, with IPA at side. Tonight, targeting domesticity’s elevated existential tyranny. If I want to avoid the planeness of day, I have to write anything but one-dimensionally. That’s where the rhyme’s warranted. Looking at Ms. Plath’s picture, on the cover of her journal entries’ unabridged collection.. her telling me to just write, use the most odd imagery I can transfix. This log, not in any way a “blog,” for my furtherance. Completely Literary. Wine, merely an ingredient.. an additive, at best. “So why do you want to make wine then, Mike?” someone sooner or later will pose. “To show them, in “the industry,” that it [the industry] can actually be more about the wine, the art, and less about that industry constriction.
All these poems, spoken word pieces I’ve been writing lately, have to be collected, organized. Somehow. Sooner, not later. Maybe when I have a night 2 Self, when Alice goes down to Monterey to visit family. I’ll do another Sauv Blanc-Syrah-Cabernet tasting, here in base, and just collect, write. Oh, and don’t forget the newest character in the whoso squad– Chardonnay; may taste a couple of these. Might have to break into writing stash, well… Each wine has to be from a different winery. Have a Cab here, obviously. An SB, Syrah– no, that’s from the same winery as the Sauvignon Blanc. I’ll make it work, one way, another.
Just realized I don’t have a pen on person. What kind of writer am I? project R, getting closer. Feel like it can’t get here soon enough. There’ll be a theme of– Can’t give it away. Especially on a “blog.” Just know, project R has me on Stanford’s doorstep, even before technical liftoff. 100%–UTTERLY–Literary, this new leap. Having NOTHING to do with “the industry.” I do make several references to wine, as wine IS Art. Feeling free, like it’s said in that song from Thievery. Time for ink, Comp Book sheet. Organic heuristics, syllabically illustrative.. Me, one of pen. 4everPoetic.