And a whole day off for the writer-father, but more to do, have to optimize this day like I have no other and in a minute I’ll dive headfirst into the novel, get at least three more pages into its body then start to bring in the 100 days of 3 pages my character keeps talking about. And think about I do all the time, the 3, or actually 3+ pages a day I did.. 100 days of it. Starting when I was still at that place and then into days where i was and am free, and on the brink of doing something amazing, I know. And everything about the writer will be kept, tidy, easily location’d, and ready to submit, all times and all days and– just thought how this sitting might be read as just another posting from Mike Madigan– “oh there he goes again drinking coffee after a night up late writing to and about some wine, this is just another hey-I’m-up writings…’
Not at all.
The morning, THIS morning promises something for the story directly and something that’s sure to make everything in life more Literary and musical, and I know it’s to take place ‘cause I’m writing it. I talked to my students last night about a sixth sense as a reader.. and that’s what I’m exercising and sharing now with you–
After a couple quick snuggles from Ms. Alice, I come downstairs while she accrues more rest, and only such can sequence when little Kerouac isn’t here in the home with his parents but in Monterey with his grammy. I enjoy this quiet but miss my little Artist as well, wondering if he’s still asleep or if he’s up playing with Molly (grammy’s dog) or what he’s observing, what he’s thinking about what his eyes ingest and just everything he’s experiencing and living down there, by the ocean.
Trying to take my time with this coffee, slow, just like the day and how I should approach it. Not sure how hot it’s to be but we are in summer, and the vines grow quicker than anyone can adequately gather and véraison is already being found, seen, recorded all over both counties. Can’t wait to have those pictures and witness those clusters get closer to their fruition. See?… I’m so envious of vineyards: they always finish their novels, and they’re always published, and most times, at least from the winery I’m working with, is enjoyed universally.
I feel older this morning, this 36 year-old writer. But I see something not so Nietzsche… I’m getting more focused and singularized and smarter with my writings and how I market myself (mmc) and I know I’m getting closer to my office, I know I am.. I can see it actually, how my desk will look and where it will situate in relation to a window, and what wines will be on the rack and what coffee will be in the kitchen and– Ahead of myself yes. But that’s where Mike Massamen needs to be.