Tonight, one for documentation. A walk in Annadel with Dad, what the writer needed. The whole time, listening to his stories, thoughts on matters, perspectives from his Human Experience. He told me a story about a writer, for some paper that went with out devices for 20-something days. Just what I need to do. Honestly, reader, I’ve had it. Completely. Want to enjoy moments, and move pens only when I want to– what I discovered writing at the CIA yesterday.
Tonight, sipping Rosé. Locked Self in castle. Have a lot about which2THINK. Too much to catalogue, and I wouldn’t here on blog. Just know I’m thinking, about and within matters of tremendous gravity. Another night where I outrun the wine’s effect. Downstairs, steak and veggies in oven. Bought from Oliver’s, so don’t think I started cooking yet. But I will. Someday. I hope.
Logged out of ALL “social” [should really be called “judgmental”] media accounts. And pretty soon, only pen, paper. IF I do 3 pages for book, it’ll be in the overcrowded Comp Book. I just think of Picasso, what he did. Utterly independent of devices, electronics, certainly the devilish internet. No one could spy on him– he moved brushes, colors, across material’d flat. That’s Artistry. Technology compromises Art.. it hinders IT, detracts from IT.
Now, my mood becomes rattlesnake’d. Judgement, disruptors.. I’m just going to do what I want. “It’s your Life, you have your choice,” Grandma ordered. I didn’t write ‘said’ as I’m convinced she wasn’t just saying something, reciting lines, speaking. She was giving me a direct order. And I’m following it. WIthout question.
Have to work tomorrow, but I’m not paying that too much mind. And why should I? 2nite’s about Art, this moment, in this office. Took too many pictures with this devil phone, now it doesn’t function as it should. I swear, revolution’s near…
That forest today.. so perfectly purist. For both prose AND poetry. I AM going to sit at one of those trail benches, just write. The laptop’s stalling again. This devil laptop.. asking for divorce– NO! Ordering. Need another glass of wine. And I need to clean up all these items I removed from desk, put to floor. How does that make sense? Yes, need another Rosé pouring, some dinner. Next semester, on mind. How to convey my favorites: Plath, Poe.. show them more as Optimists, yeasayers. Not the dark, tormented haunting scribes everyone labels, often dismisses.
9:47pm. Couple minutes past, poured Self the most obnoxious glass of the Rosé.. and the dinner, amazing. Have to say I agreed with everything from texture to marinade to intended profile. And I’m not full/feeling sick, which is nice– no, not ‘nice’.. incredible. Dad, telling me about that writer, quitting tech, “cold turkey,” as Dad put it, has me thinking. About more than just my interactions with tech. 9:57pm… Think the turkey’s cold.. starting now. Why does Time have to be so vicious? Maybe it’s my approach. Maybe I should be more relaxed, not trying always to hit some words counted.
Well.. the writer’s over 500 for this sitting, so I’m off to Comp. This Rosé.. indebted to my brother, Blair. Nice balance of thinned Zin/Syrah notes.