Still at home. Jackie, asleep. Haven’t had a chance to go out and write. When I do, only bringing Comp Book. And only writing verse, poetry.. three standalones in 2 hours. My goal.
Tonight, opening something good, in wine’s way. But what? One of the championing Merlots. I think the Duckhorn– no, the Trefethen. Think it’s an ’09.
The 3 standalones today will go into book2, to be done before 7/20. Topping that project, or I’m hoping to, at 101 pages. Starting to feel the mocha’s scaffolding leave me. Hard to continue writing with no momentum. Have to remember to print pages at some point, today. Should probably also do a backup of my work on this devilish laptop. When out for coffee, will pretend I’m a tourist, traveling light, and can only speak in verse. No sentences, no conventionality.. only written music. Again, 3 pieces, standalones.. spoken word songs.
Hungry, but not in mood to eat. How does that work itSelf out with any logic? Bored… Going to research travel targets.. Barcelona, Rome, Belgium, Thailand, Australia. And on road, I’d only bring with me the Comp Book. Or legal sheets. But then I can’t post immediately. And I think that’s why I find this blog so addictive– that I can record thoughts, instantly release, sent immediately to book/bottle. No aging.
Thinking the next book SHOULD be 200+ pages. And the next, next, the next… Want to have ALL my writings in world when I’m gone. Or at the horrible least: printed, bound, prepared.
The element of Travel in Literature.. possibly something to explore in Fall, especially with Capote. And Faulkner. Maybe wine, too, as an address. Not as a beverage, but as a scene shifter. Again, possibly.. just thinking about it. Set on Fall being my best term to date.. especially after my conversation with the IL English Professor yesterday in tasting Room.
3:58pm. Printing book. All 120 pages. Nervous, for some reason. Well, no.. not “some.” It’s MY book. Only doing 2 prints of this ms, or planning on it anyway. This draft, and the final. My assignment, 40 pages a night, read. Keeping it as raw and rough as possible. So you know: want to capture how I was feeling, precisely what I was thinking at the time. Refuse to get frightened by this editing. I’m looking forward it, really. And when I get discouraged or exhausted.. I’m forcing Self to stay in that bloody chair.
This definitely calls for that bottle of Trefethen Merlot. Radically warrants it. Not leaving house, decided. And three standlones… by night’s end. Think that’s fair. Yes, it’ll be spoken song. Ready to start writing, now, soon as this printing’s done.
Maybe I should go get a mocha, then return. Yes, that’d be okay. Feeling alive, monstrously Literary, watching my book print. Need to practice this more. Know I sound silly, juvenile. Book2.. can’t wait. 40 pages, 80 more…
Continuing in print. Will get coffee downstairs after whole of book’s on paper. Well, should really get fresh air. Crazily stirred.. stirring in crazy.
And all this junk on my desk doesn’t help, tell you that. Ugh, looks like ink fades already. You know what, I’m only printing first 80 pages. I’ll do the last 40 in two nights [again, as I’m setting on reading forty pages/night]. Yes, going to get a mocha. May skip on the wine, so I can get through my 40 pages. Or maybe I should do what I can tonight, then finish tomorrow– setting Self to go for long run AND edit. What a V-Day that’d be.
5:09pm. Back in home. Edited first standalone in book, to get started. Surprised how much I liked it. Feeling unusually confident. Will read another piece tonight, or two, so I can’t rush with the Trefethen.
6:50pm. Started sipping rest of ’08 Syrah I popped night before last. Tastes a bit oxidized, but still with those darker notes I like, that I know pretty much all ’08 Sonoma Valley Syrahs to have. Decided against opening the Trefethen, and rather elected unleashing the reverse GSM my immeasurably charming friend Sarah gifted me on the 29th, my birthday, at that Naked Wines & Tasting Lounge mixer. Thinking of that event reminds me how disgustingly calescent it was, the weather in Sonoma’s homely valley. If I were on vacation, at a resort with a pool nearby it wouldn’t have been so troubling.. but since I just clocked out, in familiar surroundings, it bothered me. Anyway, back from tangent.. thanks to my sister Sarah, and I can’t wait to free this Rhône juice. Oh, and to add even more specificity to this evening’s unfoldings: I’ll be pairing it with a Whole Foods burrito. Humorous, or genius?
Revisiting Midnight in Paris tonight, for the first time in weeks. Think its today’s printing of my book’s pages that has the writer so inclined to do so. Thinking of Hemingway’s emphasis on truth, bravery. That’s exactly what this book is, all 120 pages. Disappointed I didn’t write even 1 of the standalones in Comp Book– no matter.. I’ll do so tonight. One of my former students, texting how excited she is about Poe, for the 1A section come Fall. I’ll again demonstrate honesty in this prose: Fall, 2B my strongest semester. Ever. For a number of reasons I’ll later disclose, when the term’s in tow, throw.
That Syrah, swirling my head a bit. Looking at an old still I shot at the Dry Creek Winery, which I just learned is AGAIN for sale. Serves them right, frankly. But anyway, this picture of all the lined barrels, just after rain, makes me think of tasting in France. Not where I did in ’09, but where I WILL taste, in futures near.
Little Kerouac, again asleep. Complete quiet in condo. But this music’s volume, barely breaking audible barrier, or “threshold” as winemakers love saying. Finally in relaxed mode, mood. No worries, I’m told. Thankful. Thinking of Grandma, what she must be thinking tonight.. what she today entertained. Opening bottle.
8:45pm. First glass, small pour. Earthy, herbal red fruit, pepper, wild.. gorgeous. Just the kind of wine I need tonight. Thinking about Grandma. Hope she’s comfortable. Need to go visit her, tomorrow, before my run. Part of me’s afraid, the other viciously eager. She’s done so much for me, throughout Life. She recalled the days in the Bayview house, when I visited her in the hospital the other night, how she used to care for my sister and I– prepare our lunches, provide for us when sick. This is difficult, the present platform with her, my sweet grandmother. Pouring a glass for Her.