Opened the Handley Chard’… 

Clean, like my cognition at present.  And I again think about the novel, the Massamen story, and how so many know what’s good for the character but what about the character himself– new stories and directions..

So, then, outside the journal and mmc, I only write for the novel, starting tomorrow.  And I know, I may post a lot but that’s me and I put everything out to the world but tomorrow that changes.. less is better– no, that sounds like something some high school student would state to try to sound profound or somehow obscure or poignant or–  less, leads to the Literary, the Literary me– the NOVELIST.  Still warm outside, and I just had a douse of the Pinot, also Handley.. interesting… wine, vineyards, and me writing about them.  My head is everywhere, at present, and I can’t focus.  And no it’s not the wine, it’s the reality, it’s the day, it’s this fucking heat on the writer.  The novelist, thinking about how my students reacted to ‘Road’, and how I’m slipping into so many directions different.  So what to do, what to do, I see myself as just a writer on his own notsomagic broom.  OR carpet.  OR…..

10:55, time for bed.  Who knows if Kerouac will wake tonight, from the heat.  Nothing so far.  My body tired from the run, but thinking about the visit to the vineyard this morning, and the walk about that Olivet vineyard before the meeting.  Want more of that Chard but I know it’s too late.  I’ll bring it to Arista tomorow, see what Kevin and crew think.  Going to clean work area before sleep, a couple things on this goddamn laptop.  After talking to someone today, I’m even more convinced I need not be safe– the writer has to remain Beat, and in his narrative street, no delete, and no polishing pummel.  I’m going forward with mmc, but on my terms, not some advisor’s.  And all the advice I’ve been gifted thus far has been incalculably fruitful, especially Tanya’s earlier today by phone.  But others who think they know what the writer should do, need stay in their fluffy chair.

Tomorrow.  July.  Even hotter. Longer month by a day.  More heat.  More story.  And more novel.