Morning 3, sans mon petit Kerouac.  Still feeling very much yesterday’s run.  And today, more waiting…  Not necessarily my life story, but certain a noticeable portion of it, thus far.  More looking at vines today, watching them grow, get closer to their show.


7:48AM.. Laundry done, trash out, now the writer writes, listens to music, and relaxes.  Coffee, keeping me as it always does.  Short entry this morning.  Why?  Well after watching Alice print three pages of a homework assignment for her seminar, I’m taunted to print five pages, at least, of my poems.. for the first chap.  Going into the TR today with no cares.  It’s Thursday and I’ll just ride this day wave, this melody and scaling piano dazzle of thought.  And my focus, wine.. again.. may bring a bottle into the lab, see what they have to note about its character.. think they’re bottling.  Again.  Sometimes that seems all they do.  When I have my smaller label, there’ll be short runs, as we’ll never go over 5,000 css.  And if I, or we, do.. I cap at 10k.  Never a bottle more.  But why would I even want to do that much?  10 THOUSAND cases?  Stresses me just thinking about it– like publishing, Self-publishing I mean.. having to edit some brick of a MS.  No, I keep them curt, consistent.  Want them to be sketches of sketches.. sketch collections.. on the mountain today and I’ll have a chance, a couple opportunities I’m sure, to make a couple notes about the wines, the view, the drive up, getting out of that bloody room, away from that bar.. the air and feel and personality up there, more for writers.. anymore, the TR suffocates, and compels me to shut down, which I can’t afford at this stage.  […]  Surprised Self.  Nearly done printing poem collection.  DONE.. can’t believe it.  Who will first buy?  Only running 20 copies to start.  Don’t want to find mySelf as I used to, with so many unsold copies I’m only punishing a closet shelf with unwanted weight.