8:37am.  Giving Self till :41 to type.  Want to leave a bit early, do some roadside writing in Comp Book, then later rack into chapbook.  This racking approach with my writing, the formation of projects, seems like it may work.  And it has to.  I’m SO tired of restarting with book projects.  The one thing this blog has made me appreciate: the standalone piece.  Then collecting those.. the collection of writings from an Author.

Instincts, telling me to leave now.  Go to coffee house, don’t put yourSelf in a position to feel rushed be there a long line.  Just what I’m going to do.  Good day, reader.  We’ll connect at day’s close.  Maybe over a bottle of…

9:10pm.  Home.  A day so trying, I barely have push to further push.  And the bottle I’m set to open, a ’12 SB from the winery.  Not going to inject–I mean rack–3 pieces into book tonight.  Set on 1, just one.  The one I wrote today, on my lunch break, walking the Merlot block, left side of driveway.

Had another reminder tonight that I need finish my projects, get to Road.  Not walking you to specifics, reader, and I’ll probably forget eventually what I’m passively referencing, however just know I was motivated to faster move with these pages.. even with this infernal “blog.” Warm today, the few times I was able to get outside.

In the mood to relax, not work, write.  Just want to scroll through channels, watch anything.  Truly know what it’s like to be a potato.  Almost spelled it with an “e,” like that mindless noodle Quayle, only as I’m tired.  Wish I had another writer movie down here with me.. tired of the one I still have in this laptop, distracting me.  Need to be like Crystal, only write pen2paper at night, so I can’t be distracted by tech, anything it provides, or CAN provide.  That new writing movie I recently screen, with the main character keeping a journal throughout the film, actually taking a class on how to keep a journal– what a personal expository log’s supposed to do.  Think she, my new blogging/writing friend, has more discipline than me in certain arches.

No characters really stand out from today, unfortunately.  Trying to toggle through memory, but can’t find a thing, a single figure to record.  And because of.. my mood falls.  Maybe I wasn’t paying close enough attention.  NO, I understand, pulled from lull.  I was busy, almost more than I could handle, at one time handling a group of 4, 4, and 8 concertedly.  Can’t write between such pours.

Even more inspired, after tonight, to get to my office.. my Creative Think tank.  Has to be at least a half-hour from home, so to mentally be advantageously removed, for prose.. poem, song, CREATivitY.

Thinking of my character.. but she deserves more than my current state.  I’m the invalid writer, writing while listening to the news.  How serious does that make me?  Ridiculous, humorous, really.  Time for book.  “Logging off…” Sipping ’12 SB, finally.