untitled sheets

10/15/12.  Jack, 8 months today.  Time passing with more anger.  Least that’s how the writer’s taking it.  Lots of papers to grade later this afternoon.  Oh, still morning, I realize looking at the clock shouting 11:47.  The photographer yesterday [was it yesterday, or before?.. anyway…], telling me that it’s not the device so much as it is the shot, the eye behind it.  And the lighting, she emphasized.  This morning at winery, acquired some valuable shots, a little footage.  Tasted from tanks, spoke to the assistant winemaker on pump-overs vs. punch-downs.. he said it depends on the varietal, how you want to produce it, the style.  He also told me how fond he is of T-bins.  Not sure I wrote that right, but I don’t care too much right now, with the mocha darting through my senses.  The novel, set to receive the last few days’ writings.  Those words, originally intended for this “blog.”

Seasons, shifting, right alongside my temperament.  More optimism in my pool than pessimism’s pollution.  After this sitting, only poetry.  I need the verses, much more than they need me.  Feel I’m closer to seeing Roads, traveling.  Had a dream the other night about Paris, having another session like I did that one night, looking down at dark damp streets.  Had a thought, then soon lost it.  Have to write on…  The novel, taking on differing shapes– oh, now I remember.. blog entries from 2 years ago, Oct. ’10, talking about Kelly; seemingly “lost” fiction.  My writing is meant for page, not revolving unreliable, intangible screens.  So, I’m 4ever reserving rights to resurrect “posted” scribbles.  Or types.

Kelly, my constancy.  She’s soft-spoken, yes, but never short of any confident curve.  All her features– humble, soft.  Slightly dark, but reserving varying shades, the luminary leaps.  Saving it for novel.  She’s there, waiting for me.  Just uploaded 2 stills to this blog.  Photography, with strangely tempting hooks.  Time now, 12:40pm.  Not in much mood to grade, honestly.  But I have to.  And I should want to, to get it out of my way.  I’ll have the Comp Book open for ideas that pass.

pass mySelf in streets– eat only with a tree’s cloning

ending blocks to what me feeds

Poems following me like disturbed spirits.  The poem my students and I read in class the other day, making me think of other forms, structures.. seriously putting it with music.  Or just reciting to quiet.

Just opened novel doc.  Kelly, from two years ago, in the blog posts, different that the one in this notebook, today.  How to reconcile that, you tell me.  Just transferred the 1000+ words to novel.. received a comment on blog photos.  Need to stay with this pace, each day, so I can spend 8+ hours in MY office/studio.  That’s what I’m after, that’s what breed stronger sentences.

Looking at the vase atop the cabinet, right above the TV.  Filled with corks.  Wine.. telling me something, but not sure I can translate.  Not now.  Maybe I need more caffeine.  On mind: the parking ticket I have to pay, still, from JC; And, car registration.  And the stills I shot this morning.  Where’s my phone?  Antsy, need more Art..