journal, shores

6/1/13.  Found typo in poem I wrote today, on phone.  Posted to blog, leaving it that way.  IF anything, it really captured the moment: rushed, written on phone, sloppy though showing writing urge.  Sipping ’12 Viognier, this Saturday night.  Went for gentle jog/walk with another co-worker, here in Bennet Valley.  After yesterday’s dashes, bee chases, my legs need rest.  No running for morrow scheduled.

This white, like vanilla silk sip sequences.  Love it–  Now I’m in mood to write.  Just racked up to page 10 in Book.  Keeping pieces short.  Measuring everything, like the ever-meticulous winemaker.  Need more poems, short erratic entries.

You know what I never understood.. how someone, anyone, could just sit in front of a TV screen.  Mindless, lifeless, motionless, Selfless.  I don’t care what kind of day they’ve had, how tired they are.  Surrendering a mind is death.  And that’s just what the character’s doing, sitting on couch, staring at “reality” show characters scream at each other over matters less than petty, insignificant.

Took some notes in the little pages today, for Fall semester.  Thinking more about life’s brevity, especially since finding out about Grandma.  Today, I learn her condition is terminal.. pancreatic cancer, I guess.  I know she’s 90, or 91, but that doesn’t make any of this any easier.  Can only imagine what’s going through Mom’s head, my aunt’s.

Need to take advantage, more so, of all my days.  Make this writing work for me.  Take my compositional concupiscence to levels unseen.  Walking around in Bennet Valley heights, then returning to this meager condo shook me, told me to truly focus.  “Your 34,” the moment said, sternly like a cranky 2nd grade teacher who forgot her coffee mug in her house’s over-cluttered kitchen.

Wine Bar beats on.  Need a beer, thinking about Grandma.  Just hope she’s not in pain, that she’s comfortable– that she knows she’s loved, immeasurably.  Life, what this “blog” is really about.  Yes, wine’s a fixture, I guess, minimally at best.  But, Life is my main topic.  And not just of a writer–an OBSESSED penner, but of one knowing Life’s rules, inevitabilities, fragilities.

More relaxed, from current track.  Imagining mySelf on some Greek beach.  Writing, pen2paper, naturally.  no deadlines, no desired progress, no goal.

just the moment


Winery’s caves, for some reason in vision.  Still haven’t tasted my wines, since topping.  No, I’m not getting lazy, I tell Self.  And I’m not.  Only real chance I have to taste is if I show early, at lunch, or after punching out– which can be difficult, especially if the manager needs to leave quick.  And that’s what I don’t like, at all.. me, at someone else’s mercy.

New writing routine, in place tomorrow.  Books first.. then brief blog entry.  Expecting to make my first book sale before 6/30/13.  Should really have a calendar with all these dates mapped.  Could do so here on laptop monster, but that’s against principles newly enforced, re-enforced, -instilled.

Turning on news.  Not sure why.  Always has same tone, messaging.  Vacation, I keep thinking, with these beats.  Away from others’ aims, goals, campaigns, whatever word they want to use after last meeting.

Ocean, right there.. mine.

At least till I tire, want for

rest.  Finally, no


This is some world, other, again I’m finding.  Not editing this entry, now, as I wanted, as I usually would.  Trying to act out of character.  Surprise Self.