Didn’t post the writings from last night.

And here I am in the same spot, here in nook, and the novel has gone nowhere, and I’m tired and fanging from the day, all the people that just come in, stay as long as they like, asking “Can I revisit the…Can I revisit THE……..” Annoying. I’m just tired, cranky, and back to the estate I go in morrow. Hope it’s not as busy.. need to get serious writing done, done.. the novel, the book that will change it, from ‘it’ to another. The adjunct, the runner, the wine chaser and sipper.. which do I chose? Sipping this Racer 5 slow.. slow.. thinking about dinner last night, Mom’s cooking and the conversation with Dad– Alice just reminded me of the meeting I have on Wednesday night, at winery.. no time for me, it seems.. so what do I do.. plan, go to bed early, write everything down. Two poems written today, one in the morning, before I opened the gate and the other about an hour ago, a haiku while waiting at Tres Chiles for our order. I have to wake early tomorrow, and write in the novel, which I now again call the Massamen novel.. Mike will be centralized in wine and how his sister controls her destiny in it; he wants to work with her in some capacity but not sure what.. and I’m starting the timeline over again.. 3 weeks from tomorrow the novel will be done and posted, published and sold. April 20th.. the due date. I will only write there, and on the blog which will now serve as a work log.. so yes, ‘Forced Avarice’ will be on hold, damn me! But tomorrow’s a different tomorrow that how I viewed yesterday and last night, 24 hours before both. I breathe, focus and remember what I talked about with Dad last night, about Life, and about how short it is and to not bother my Self with matters trivial and hallow. Jackie, asleep upstairs, and his goodnight’s to us get sweeter and sweeter by day, with more facial expression and tonal fluctuation. He knows we listen and knows that we’re deeply affected by his words, mood. “Good night to you!” he says now, with the smile that seems to boast ‘yeah I’m cute.’ My old friend Amber, in India for her studies.. if only I could have such a trip. But just for a week.. not sure I could survive 10 away from little Kerouac, or Ms. Alice– in fact no I couldn’t. But I’m excited for her and the whim of it all, and how so much is around her; so much Newness and promise and genuine lesson. New places and streets and views (like from her flat), more than educational. Those views and sensory elements engage and reshape you. And to be away from technology, away from the distractions.. away from all anti-literary’s. Which I’m sure if wine is or not. Heard J upstairs playing, doing his voices and playing with the animal clan he keeps atop his sheets. Alice goes up there to find him by the door, smiling, then saying to her “Mommy cuddle..” “In Jackie’s bed,” she said back to him. “No, mommy bed!” he returned with definite octave. She started to laugh, and speaking in speech minced by giggles, “No…. Jackie’s bed!” And the back-and-forth persisted till he conceded (which is rare), both laying and snuggling on his mattress. I came down here to the nook and felt I had to convey this transaction between Ms. Alice and the little Beat. And I know what’s important, I know what I have to do for my family, and I know what’s to get my first and last layers of priority.