Brick Bag Traveling

7/15.  How did I finish 3PAGES?  Not sure.  Alone on my Friday night.  Wish I wasn’t.  But I am.  Here.  Here I am.  Tomorrow’s mission, Life-lamenting, entirely Literary.  Sipping my last cap for night.  Time, 10:36p.  Not bad.  I’ll have a glass of water in a couple.  Waking at 6:30a, for run.  Then, pre-Napa Mission writing.  What do I want from Napa?  Easy.  Newness.

Feeling lazy, have to write through it.  Don’t want to repeat Self 2much.  Have to save much for morrow.  2morrow’s supposed to change everything.  So maybe I should enjoy night’s capping and just fall2sleep.  Yes, just what the writer should do.  Remembering fact about Moldova, the caves there, how they’re the biggest, most expansive in the world.  What a guest told me the other day.

10:47pm.  Guess I’ve compensated adequately for night last.  A writer has2focus on the WriteR.  Only way we should ever do.  Our pieces comprise our peaces.  What I’ve sipped 2nite, catching me a bit.  But I write faster.  That’s undeniable.  No devilish chemical can ever catch the composition curver.  These “professional winemakers,” so funny in their boasts, their pride in Creating something consumable.  I respect what they do, but when they elevate their artistry above other Creators, like WRITERS, it frustrates me, I won’t lie.  My sister never does that, she does her job, honorably.  So why do these other grape stompers act as they do?  I’ll never get it.  And I don’t care.  I have books2WRITE.

Feel rushed to be2bed.  But why?–  No, shouldn’t be so nonchalant.  This song, on station, having me think of vacation, escape for writing.  Like tomorrow.  No expectations, though.  That’ll endanger the mental.  Can’t believe I haven’t been upstairs yet, since being home.  Wrote the whole night down here, on couch.  How much did I write in OFFblog?  […]

These songs, putting me into vacation’s station, if that makes sense.. it does so much to me.  And all I did this whole night, at home bySelf.. WRITE.  What writers do.  This last beer, definitely cap.  Need sleep, 2B ready for morrow’s Napa mission.  Think I want to hit Alpha Omega, then one, or 2 others.

11:04pm.  Why am I not quitting, ceasing with typed/written efforts?  I’m maniacal, it’s altogether obvious, right?  Still in a flavorfully furrowed throw.  Love the writing, music, when space is set2SELF.  Would love2have another cap succeeding this bottle, but morrow’s session’s far too bullion-full.  When I demonstrate/execute Autonomy, in other territory.

Those judging, just humorous.  I don’t care what they’ve done in past lives, careers.  They love to talk, hear themselves doSO.  This condo’s quiet, addictive,  My character, she understands.  Where is SHE?  Should find out.  But fictions dilute a cape’s faded slate.  Another sip needed.  As it’s the writer’s Friday.  When is the next time I’ll have a night like this?  Addictive solitude.  Just keep with the types.  11:23pm.  When do I go2BED?  How do I know I’ve taken full advantage of night?  1909 words onto OFFblog log.  Lovely.  USeful.  But the blur approaches.  This quiet, only garnished by chilled beats, setting Self in separate sortie.

Retiring.  I’ll write before morrow’s departure.  Mountain’s other side.  Mystery solvent, hoped.  Tempted by ‘nother cap.  But resisted.

This industry, making me sick.

12:20am, 7/16/13.  What if I resisted the impulse to go to Napa, tomorrow?  Just stay here, Sonoma’s side.  And for me, in Bennett Valley AVA.  That’d do something, resisting the overwhelming urge to travel, search for Newness.. what if I don’t have2search?  Sleeping on it.  Computer stalling.  Hate this device.  Should be scribbling on paper, Kelly would say.  Waiting for that rotating rainbow wheel to vanish.

5:59am.  Up, for some reason.  First thought was to write, capture it.  But this laptop, still moving slow.  I would have tagged this para’ 5:56a, or something thereabouts, but struggles with this button board prohibited.  Happy with last night’s session, indeed.  But the work isn’t done.  Talk about Newness…  This morning’s a wonderful start.  Tried going back to sleep, but the moment wouldn’t let me.  Grandma said it was my choice in Life to do what I pleased.  I’m doing what’ll make this day the fullest.  And just like that, I feel tired, like I should go back to bed.  But why?  What would that do for me?

Loving this odd morning Silence.  No music, just the refrigerator hum.  Should put coffee on, make it a truly Literary morning, then day, then another writing night.  Going for no specific word count today, just want benefited session.

If I’m to go all the way into this moment, like a writer should, I’d note everything.  I’m typing on an ottoman; elbows again dug into 2 laps;next to keys: cell phone, belt, cash puddle, remote controls, one of my son’s cups, little notebook.  And the quiet.  Think I should go back to bed, now.  NO!  Make some coffee.  Have to capitalize on this early rise.  This means I could get to Napa quicker.  When I worked for the box, I would leave the house at around 6:45a, I think.  Is that right?  Yes…  Wouldn’t it be hilarious to show up, there in that bloody office, walk down that isle of cubes like I still worked there, only to stop, say, “Oh yeah, I’m free now, nevermind.” Hopefully inspiring others now there, feeling as I once did, to just up, LEAVE.

Does a writer ALWAYS have 2B writing?  If I wasn’t art this keyboard, what would I be doing?  Maybe I’m an odd form of writer.  Like I’ve said in earlier entries: obsessed.  That’s it.. need coffee.  And I’m going upstairs.

6:24am.  After first sips of coffee, the writer’s more than day-ready.  Budget for day: $80.  And I’ve decided not to buy new legal pad.  Found one here in desk, upstairs.  Watching a different writer movie.  Looked for one of my other DVDs, but I can’t locate it.  And being as obsessive as I’ve lately been, I was, still am, tempted to search high/low for it.

Tempted to bring video & camera equipment to other side.  But I won’t let Self.  The sheets’ll have 2do, search as only recorder.  […]  Just decided, bringing black&white Comp book, full as it is.  It’s what I’ve been lately using, what’s calling me in this unusual, early sitting.  It’s what feel right, to me, right now.  This documentary, the subject, seen carrying a Comp Book; the film shows samples of his writing, flying and fading across screen.  Would love another cup.  Need to count these tips, first.  Surprised how much I’ve collected while at winery– in Reserve Room, on mountain, or in TR.

$457 collected in envelope.  Had no idea there was THAT much in there.  Anyway, onward.  Need more coffee.  Will be in shower, shortly.  When should Napa departure be?  Maybe 10am[?].  Telling Self not to make this too scabrous.

Yesterday’s count: 2,455 words.  Know I should be logging that here, as it only perpetuates a non-lucrative, compromising, observation.  But I just wanted a count for yesterday, especially after the 14’s evening, where I accomplished nothing.  I don’t know.. maybe I needed a night like that.

6:49am.  Back up.  With 2nd cup.  Only writing to this page’s bottom, then I’m into Comp book’s pages.  I’ll be printing the 59-page piece tonight.  That’s my only evening aim.  And music.  Need new songs, something to write2.  Maybe I should, now that I think, travel to Napa as I used to, taking 12 east to 29.  Which is a longer way, yes, but it gives me longer to think, enjoy day.  Then, I’ll return to Sonoma’s side by Calistoga Road’s way.  Making it a point, however I get there, to travel light.  Just me with Comp Book.

OH this coffee, so lovely.  My morning character– better shifted, shaken.  Wandering wherever.  I don’t care.  Thanking these cups.  Can’t remember the last time I had a session like this.  Because I haven’t.

This is what I mean, when I say “Newness.” -6:58am