9:55pm.  Home.  Enjoying a beer, slowly mind you.  Mostly in celebration of these old writings I’m rediscovering for book’s sake.  After I close this laptop, I’ll return to the Comp Book as I did early.  Both writing as well as inventorying past scribbles; verses, poems.  My little Artist, upstairs asleep.  Still reacting to earlier happening of us both falling asleep, waking dazed.  Am I different after that nap, a little Rip Van Winkle syndrome?  Maybe.  But it was only 2 hours later.  Felt like 20 years…

Been writing all day.  Should stop.  Just be lazy.  Watch TV, have Comp Book at side in case something lands, and relax.  Just.  BE.  Lazy.  In tasting Room, tomorrow, and I’m only listing.  No prose.  Keeping notes simple.  Keeping them in form of NOTES.  Actually, I think I’m on the mountain tomorrow.  I’ll be up there, thinking I’m in Paris, drinking a beer street-side, as I saw so many locals do in ’09.  That trip, only months before my first blog, what started all this, was started.  Not much light in this Room.  Just the TV, lamp at left on end-table.  Perfect setting for a typewriter.  Still don’t have one.

Yet.

(4/11/13)