Lunch for a bit even though I ate on drive down.  Just more time to self, sparkling water and music in this building.  Not bad… café rock with bit of elevated tempo, female vocals, has me thinking of Road travel.  Driving somewhere distant.  Utah, Colorado, Texas, North Carolina, New York.  Saw this documentary about a band, this kind of rock from what I remember, touring all over the country.  Can’t remember much about it other than when they landed in New York for a gig they came alive in a way they didn’t at any other venue.  Tried looking for it just now but could find it.

Need more music in my life, much more.  And there’s already quite a bit, as you might know from reading.  More, though.  Why not more. Why not universes more?  I’m falling into a loving place, more loving, with my character, with who I am as a writer in wine.  Not going for any word count, here.  Just listening to the scene, stage, me, this track.  Work… what I do versus who I am.  Everything now intersects with loving steps.

I’ve only written here like this once, months ago.  Sitting at a tallboy table in a side room, different feel to it all.  My break, my time in the day to take time from the day for MY day.  Postmodern recipe for realization.  Challenging self to write a song while canvassing with team.  One short, but not so I’m at a loss, or someone listening would be saying something like “That’s it?” Like with some wines when you taste and you’re left wondering, “So what am I supposed to think about that?” Wine finding a foothold in my literary and musical life layers.

Vineyard, me in a wooden chair, old, sipping a bright white and remembering the envelope.

6/20/19