journal

Wrote seulement poetry today. 2 standalone pieces. Not exceedingly busy in the tasting room, which was fine with me. But I still sold. Felt self in vineyards, walking and writing, looking at the cordons, and listening to the verses they wanted me to write. 3 tracks tomorrow, all to be performed/recorded, like what I wrote today. From this morning, a rebirth of the spoken ME; jazz and said versery. Something about to happen in my story– me, stage, reading. Stares, lights, filled seats and photographs, me thinking how I saw what they saw. This reinvented ME–

Wine this night: ’12 Sbragia Cab.

3/11/16