I watch an interview, or press conference with a blogger/entrepreneur, one of the few I follow and even fewer that I respect and learn from. He stresses sleep, that you need your sleep. Earlier this afternoon, after run and after taking myself out to brunch at Piner, coming home and eating then taking a shower, I thought about a nap, what he said. Then, I said, “Fuck sleep.” Drove to Starbucks, ordered a four-shot mocha and here I am, ready for stories… Still need to edit the 4AM writing, and go through the stacks I removed from the desk. Change from mocha to left, money again tight, but that’s going to change, getting closer to 37 and now I’m done playing. Completely done. I’m just doing. I’m just going to blog every fucking thing I can. I can learn from everything— WE, can learn from everything, and not everything in my life (maybe I can learn from that “content”), but can all learn from what’s around us. We don’t need to buy books or go to websites that tell us how to do something. I say just leap, do it. IF it’s bad the first time, first ten times, for first five hundred times, it’ll eventually be great (especially if you/I keep trying).
Deep swig of the mocha….. French word of the day: pensées, meaning ‘thoughts’. There’s so many right in my lenses but I can translate or convey, transcribe or whatever them quick enough. In a minute, going to challenge Self to throw away ten items from the stacks on the floor, to my left, that once ruled this desk’s exhausted top. Before that, though, I listen to how quiet it is in the Studio. One of the items on my 2do list for day is ‘Study’. General, nonspecific, and with purpose. Whenever I have a chance to study something, learn about it and what it means and how it contributes to the story, DO. If I would have taken a nap, I wouldn’t be writing this, I wouldn’t be enjoying this quiet (which by the way ceases at 1:45 as I have to go pick up a present for Dad, for Father’s Day, bought by Ms. Alice— And, Mom, if you’re reading this, don’t even think of asking me what it is! Ha ha…), I wouldn’t be sipping this mocha which I think may be the best one Hopper has ever produced for the writerfatheradjunct.
A picture from yesterday’s drive around Dry Creek strikes me, that old basket press at Everett Ridge. Obviously old, outdated in some sense, but at one time that was what was relied upon to make wine, press the grapes, extract what they could from those vines. When I walked back to my car, I took the opp’ to meditate, just for ten seconds or so, by my car, looking up at the hill and into the narrowing row. I too need to grow, I am, I am currently and concurrently with all my standalones and quick pictures— everything’s a story, everything’s an item in inventory (which I need to keep up with, I know, but it’s hard). Purpose… to write. Shove everything into the bottle that is my written life. We can all learn from our own bottled contents.