Tomorrow, reigniting the 3PAGEaDAY pattern. Starting early. And only when done, do I touch this bloody blog. Today, starting with run, with Carmen [5.02 mi], then to Room. Had vineyard tour with people from Petaluma, man owning a sushi restaurant. His friend, making the comment that Sauv Blanc can pair with seasonal recreation blazes. Interesting. That was the only line from today that shot to page, or that I thought should be scribbled, typed. Now, sipping one of the last Rosé bottles. Love all notes, and I refuse to dumb it down, my friend’s creation, to a descriptor list. Didn’t get to tasting my wines today, or any wine, as I toyed with ideas of another run this evening, when I returned home. So I stayed dry, while my friends sipped, after punching clock.
My run this evening, 2nd of day [first time I’ve ever done such]: 6.63 mi in 51’50, averaging 7’49”/mi. That’s over 11 miles total for day. Again, never done that before. In my Life. Ever. What else can the writer do? How about 3PAGESaDAY for the rest of the writer’s Life? That’ll do. It did for Updike.
Looking further into Poe, tonight. Want to fall into his shade, see what he saw. For what? The finished projects. Had a story idea today, while standing by one of the registers.. about methodical vengeance, that any reader could relate to. Keeping in head for now, away from paper. But that’s for this present. Horizon’s present screams different development.
Can’t watch anymore of this poisonous TV. Its “shows.” Utterly evil. Think I have a writing movie in this laptop.. hold on… There. Something that interests me. Thought about ‘revisiting’ old entries, on this blog AND mikeslognoblog. Have more than enough material for a book.. MORE than enough. Just don’t have enough to Self-print something of stunning length– or just “regular” book length. It always boils down to bloody money. And I don’t want to risk kidnapping by publishers. That leads to blood money. How would I look my son in the eye, surrendering my Art to some corporate writer jailer?
Interruptions.. endlessly irking. Need to be on Road for a bit. The 3PAGESaDAY, my anecdotal code, recipe. Have to maintain it, in no flaw. Already eager for morning mocha, coffee. But no blueberry scone. Have to stay light, for next run. Instead of the 5k I thought of for next month, thinking a 10k’s what the writer needs. What his writing needs. Keep testing Self, as I did today with my 2runz. Mind on rhymes now, verses, looking deeper into Mr. Poe, his works, biographies. But his verses.. antagonizing me, truly. To write more truthfully.
Wine, almost gone. And I’m glad. Want to be lively tomorrow. For tasting, writing, filming, more photography. Again, I’m looking to record everything. EVERY-BLOODY-THING. Last sip, here I go… Thinking of an early run in morrow’s harshest light. No. Tomorrow’s about recording, verses, anything capturing Art/Life. Can’t stop reading Poe’s poems. Addicted. To Lit, not just EAP’s pieces. Now watching the news. Just as boring, annoying.