1373 new words to novel.  To my blogger friend who asked, “How do you write so much?” Again, that’s what I do.  I’m.  A.  Writer.  Sipping Merlot.  ’09.  And slow.  Not in any mood for the level effect mirroring Thursday morning.  Actually, I’m already fantasizing about my morning mocha.  Alice, babysitting her friend’s daughter.  Little K, asleep upstairs.  Should go check on the little bull.  Need poetry written this evening, no fail.  And, in mood to sip some vino.  AND, need to research typewriters…

Buds breaking, in other valleys.  Time, with another victory.  But I’m starting to think that’s the wrong way to look at all this.  Just poured night’s cap.  Tempted to have a bit more Merlot, but I’m set to let it go.  Think I’ll take my small video camera tomorrow, to capture what I can in the Room.  Need more activity.  Today, frankly, too tame.  Another Merlot throw…

Listening to music, some “Wine Bar Beats,” as I used to call them, during days at the box.  Already 11:24p.  Interesting, I guess.  If I were on Road, in some hotel, I’d be doing just what I am now.  Writing.  Not at some party, or gathering.  Not networking, meeting “important” people.  I’m a writer, all I need are readers–  So, I’ll stay in my Room.  Sip, scribble.  That’s what I do, as my brother Steve once reminded me.

Not sure where I am tomorrow.  Reserve room?  More than likely.  That’s fine.  In fact, I hope I am.  I could use the tips, really.  The copies won’t copy themselves.  Publishing, about budgeting, as is winemaking.  When my sister said, “Give me your budget for 2013, then I can give you advice,” I really appreciated the budgeting reality.  No matter your genre, or form.

Done with night’s wine.  Now, for sleep.  But quickly returning to my Djuna Barnes notes, how she’d do anything for a story…  Hmmm.  Now inner pens perpetuate…

Rimes from today:  “…still through milieu…”  “…annulated late, but I pulsate…”

(3/16/13)