8:10pm.  Exhausting day.  No three pages tonight.  Meditating on this blog.  Unfortunate for you perhaps, reader.  Writing begins tomorrow.  Morning, after dropping off Alice & Jack.  going to miss them, yes.  But there’s work to do.  Should be back in chair, at latest, 7:30am.  I’ll have my 4shots while carving the 3PAGES for day.  Have a big group tomorrow, for VIP tasting in cave.  Not exactly thrilled, but I know I’ll gain something from it.

Topped my Merlot today, with more Merlot from Tank 50.  Tasted nice, even better than it did a couple weeks past.  Writing in dark, like I have a problem…

9:46pm.  Not in mood to write.  So why am I writing, or typing, then?  Should go sit on couch, watch some polluted MTV reality show, let my Life fly away.  But have Comp Book on person, like I’m armed in zones perilous.  tomorrow morning’s session, beyond epic.  3PAGES, blog posts, spoken word.  All.  Complete Literary madness.  The quiet, the coffee, the resulting Compositions.  Not thinking about the huge group I have tomorrow.  Not anymore.  Not taking it seriously.  And why should I?

Trip to Napa, Tuesday.. not planning it.  Going to stop wherever I stop.  That’s it.  Want randomness, not the planned blandness.  And dinner tomorrow night, hoping to make quick.  Not rushed, exactly.  Just to-the-point.  Giving my life a review, like a 90-day or yearly review for employees.  Certain things need reshaping, I’m defining.

 

7/14/13.  Back from dropping off Alice & Jack at airporter.  7:32am.  Two minutes late to typing, only ‘cause this devil laptop was giving more grief, atop every other annoyance it’s happy to provide.  This house, disturbingly silent.  Watching one of my writing movies, to ease me into day.  Eating blueberry scone, with 3shot mocha.  Not a 4, as I already had a cup this morning before we left.

Dinner with a friend tonight.  Needing to make it quick.  Want to be seated upstairs, in office by 9:30pm at the LATEST.  And yes, ‘downstairs’.  Haven’t set up desk yet, and I don’t need any more morning anxiety, this morning.  This trip Jack & Alice are taking, without me with them to protect, plus the group I’m hosting today [for some reason.. not sure why I’m taking it at all seriously.. in fact, I’m not, nevermind..], already making heart jump over invisible barbed poles.

Not as hungry as I thought I was.  May not finish scone.  Oh well.  Not like I need it.  Alice taking later bus, disabling run possibility this morning.  Which is heavenly, by me.  Wasn’t in much mood, really.  Need to make list, for this time to Self–realistic targets to hit.  Lots of printing, definitely– BOOK1 [the 59-page project].  Need to sip this mocha faster, feeling tired.  What wine am I opening tonight?  That Pinot by the door?  The Cab Franc Katie gave me?  Don’t know.  Was going to bring a bottle to dinner, but I think I’ll just get a glass.  One beer before, one wine with steak which I’ll more than likely order.

7:41a.  This quiet, so strange.  Miss little Kerouac, his wonderings around the house.  Thinking of my review, yesterday.  Everything went wonderfully, as I have an unusually supportive TR director/”manager.” But I’m caused to give Self my OWN review.  What do I[!!!] want next?  Which direction should I[!!!] choose?  Not what someone has ‘lined up’ for me.  Grandma said, “It’s your life, you have your choice.” So what do I want?  I already know.  I’ve known.  Huh, you know, reader.. so why even address it.  Just letting you know what my brain’s painting in this early solitary hour.

Want to be upstairs by 8am.  Need to prep desk for tonight’s work.  Not sure I’m going Napa on Tuesday– or wait, yes I should.  I’ll bring paper for writing, for the day’s 3PAGES.  I’ll carve them in Napa.  Maybe at the Roasting Company, like old times.  In the box’s territory.  So what if they see me?  What would one of them do?

Nothing.

There, then.  It’s a possibility.

7:49am.  Why does that time look so odd?  Maybe just another odd component of an immensely odd morning.  And no, I won’t write at the Roasting Company.  I’ve done that before.  I need Newness.  Maybe at the Rutherford Grill.  Outside, at one of the small tables, like Hemingway– by Self, glass, maybe small bit, engaged in my work, recording characters, those around, just for sakes of so doing.

Already past 500 words.. forgive me for reporting, but I can’t believe this speed, considering how ‘off’ I feel.  The mocha, singing louder.  Thinking of giving Self a promotion, following review– maybe I should give Self a formal writeup, in this ‘review’.  Point out strengths, weaknesses, take all the trite evaluative steps They do.  Just MUCH better written.  When do I do that?  Maybe tonight, just as this writing retreat starts.  Putting it on list.. just did.  List in Comp Book, opposite side of 3rd from last page.

7:57am.  Unplugging laptop, moving upstairs.  Haven’t finished scone.  Why am I not with usual pastry itch?  Because this morning’s curvingly unusual.  Unusual equals beauty.  Sipping faster, propelling momentum like rogue asteroid towards space’s edge.  8am, going upstairs…

8:04am.  In shower by 8:20a.  Writing movie still on.  Want to hit 1,000 words by shower’s time.  But I shouldn’t obsess over the count, even though that’s part of my voice, I feel.  If I write from Rutherford, who knows what’ll happen.  You know what, consider it planned…  On list.  Item 3.  Much calmer than I was earlier this A.M.  Felt a little anxious yesterday, too, at start of my only mountain tour.  But it away went with the couple chilled water sips that shot into the writer’s inner streets.

Wine, thinking.. what do I open tonight with writing session?  Don’t want to sip too much, though.  Lately, wine, and my preferred artisanal beers, have been slowing me when writing, not allowing mind and vision to fly in beneficial randomness and spontaneity, as it once did.  Need to buy more sparkling waters.

8:11am.  Breaking from buttons.  Need a little still time.. I’ll note in Comp Book if anything of note catches.  Should switch modes, to one ready to “work.” That’ll be in my Self-review– hate that bloody word, ‘review’.  Evaluation, then.. SELF-EVALUATION.  One note.. stop doubting Self.  Just jump.  Start living like more of an Artists, relying less on these vile devices.  Ink, paper, that’s all I need.. that’s what I need to really accept, understand.  As Artist, AND Human.

8:53am.  In departure’s form.  Tempted to get another mocha.. should I?  Or at least a latte, one of those cinnamon ones from VJB.  that’d be newness.  Settled, then.  Thankfully charging phone before I leave.  Don’t know why I’m happy about that, having to do only with device need.  Already taking some items off desk.  Reading this release from 2010, the vinoLitLetterz Issue, the only.. think I might rewrite, blend into 59-page project, probably pushing it over 60.  Oh well.

8:56am.  Should leave soon, as I don’t know what the coffee line’s like at VJB.  Haven’t tasted their wines in I think, maybe, 2 years[?].  They were good, from what I remember.  But I’m in a coffee mood, mode.  tonight, printing, while sipping red, slow.

 

music, every cut into soil

leaves dwindling by deadlines, ignored

repeated measure, untethered weather

write another letter

microphone off

speak louder, like trees obstruct

speak over cliff

speak to IT

 

8:59am.  1,000 words, before “work.” Guess I’m happy.  Would be smiling more if I didn’t have to leave, if I could just stay here ALL morning, day, night.  And just write.  This’ll be in my review, I Self threaten.  Okay, leaving.  Not letting this group today too far into my head.  The latte’ll make sure of that, building instant, well-defended, wall.