Home from Mom & Dad’s, Father’s Day dinner. Had an incredible Filet Mignon paired with an ’09 Mt. Veeder Cab from Sbragia Winery. Here in home office, with a FULL glass of the ’09 Lancaster Cab I opened last night. First sip, yes.. better than last night; more open, exposed, eager for palate contact. Writing movies tonight, paired with writing. And wine, naturally. All this debris on floor, that I this morning placed, not potting me tonight. Going to enjoy the session, these pages. And yes, or no, I won’t be reading the book. Plan on saving that for morrow. Tonight’s about writing, not editing, proofing, correcting. Tonight is solely consumed in Creation.
Can’t understand how a Human being can make a wine so deliciously dizzying. I don’t want to dumb this down to a descriptor dowry. We’re both our own entities, evaluating each other, objectively. I probably seem too self-qualifying to this wine. But to me, she, what’s in glass, seems carnal, libidinous, stratified. Want to take my time.. have everything off this desk– Just notice I don’t have any music playing, no writing movie.. just the stillness, silence of Room. Don’t think I’ve written in these conditions before. Usually, I have something playing. Something.
Put the printer on floor, just a second ago. Love having this desk’s top completely desolate. That’s what invited clear thinking, writing, composition. Not clutter, that’s for sure. Another sip of the LE… Motivating, but it makes me want to just lean into this chair, that used to be in Dad’s office, in the San Carlos house.. be reflective. But I want to be productive tonight, opposite of last night’s glop.
Tomorrow, my Friday. On Saturday, or mine I mean, have to start making notable progress with Fall’s lectures. Have to Literally write the entire term. That’s the only way I’ll make it my strongest ever. This’ll go to the blog, so after these types, notes in Comp Book. Just remembered, I’m sticking to this particular bound page brick till 11/2013. Need another glass. So glad I finally opened this bottle last night. Want to visit my wines tomorrow, but I don’t know if it’s safe, with the recent S02 addition. Blair’ll be there tomorrow, so I’ll ask. The winery’s wines, anymore, fail to accrue my attention. Could be that I’m over-critical, over-confident? Who knows, but I need to give them a second look, look for notes that I want in my productions.
= MM, with her creatively cynical deconstruction of a butterfly.. saving for book.. incredibly valuable
= annoying woman on MT tour, putting negative spin on everything, even her daughter calling her out, calling her “debbie downer” .. completely rebarbative
= strange noise in caves, causing me to sprint for exit/entrance
10:17pm. Years passing, I only become more obsessed, more in LOVE with words, ways I can twist, rearrange them.. hence the recent resurgence with spoken word, poem. Exhaustion from day, creeping a bit. Was surprised how busy it was today, but here I am, typing for Life. IS it writing.. yes. If I convince mySelf it is. Last two blank pages in Comp Book, need a spoken piece. All rhymed complicatedly. Something engaging, for ear soup sea. Think about that often, actually, driving to work– reciting to crowds, people I’ve never known, having their first impression of me be one of a speaker, speeching rhyme accelerant. Future, cursive in present…