Slept in a bit. Working in kitchen with Emma at my right on her little learning tabled, headphones and cheerios. Today, a day I don’t technically have to work but will make self. Feeling yesterday’s collective 9.5 miles, especially the second outing with 7 for self. Read today, at some point. Also want to….. don’t say it, don’t. Just do, enact, move.
Emma drops a Cheerio on the ground I look for it for a bout five seconds then tell myself to come back to the keys, typing. Part of my writing recipe. Where you are what you’re doing.. the people and the same with them. I’m convinced there’s no one more interesting in my life than these two small needy inquisitive humans. Another rule or rather ingredient in my writing recipe… Shorter sentences, shorter paragraphs, shorter pieces. Length is alarming, on both side potentially. But the longer, the more exhaustive, the less true intention is demonstrated.
Zin last night, from Ridge. From a vineyard I know. Loved everything about it. What wine and literature is to me. From her voice, to her color, the lasting tremor of her spell, to me settling down the bottle and corking for the night, putting bottle in the sink and having an apple for dessert. The picture I took with Jackie, with the bottles form he K&L shipment… Want him involved in the business, the shop. As much as he wants to be. There will always be an office for him. That’s what I’m seeing.
Call yesterday with a wine friend, and all the plans he voiced..all the metrics and possibilities. All the plans and potential competition or perception of competition… all the co-workers of his that were let go. What covid has done to everything and everyone. I don’t want to be harnessed to anything, or anyone. Not that my friend is but his speaking and enumeration of projects that could catapult him to true business autonomy made scribble, plan… aim for liberation, of sorts. Gathering every lead and phone number I have… what I’ve had emphasized in my AE story.
Try this again, DAY ONE. Toward Office/Time OUT. Not as in I’m out of time to do something, but taking a time-out from regularity, the patternization of life, logging all steps toward the office. Thanks to covid and yesterday’s call with my wine friend, and the Ridge Pagani ’17 Zin from last night, my K&L buys.
Today, declutter. The office should be open, spacious, inviting, just the writer and the room. No things, no intrusions, no stacks or anything. Throw shit away! I tell self. Take more notes. Don’t watch ANY show at night, not that I do a lot but found that Californication one of my alltime favorite writing movies or shows was available last night at now charge through SHOWTIME I think. Had to watch a couple episodes, study Hank Moody’s ways and character, what he says to the other characters, their reactions to his words…. How we never writes, but that’s the most literary thing that a writer like him could do.
Added to writing recipe… Take time to NOT write. Write about it later, if you want. After finishing the page on the Anderson Valley Pinot last night, that’s just what I did with the Ridge. I let her speak to me, tell me something I didn’t know about my wine life, wine, and just life as an idea and something that’s to be recorded and studied and wildly LIVED.
Emma asks for more orange juice, I honor. Today, all for me. My writing recipe and this day-by-day itemization and documentation of MY wine Road to my wine shop, business, online to start then maybe a walk-in entity? I don’t know. Would love to have what K&L has…. People working with you that love wine, that LIVE wine, that host tastings virtual or actual. Gives me an idea for one this evening… tasting something and recording my reaction. Selling wine but not at all selling.
Jot more ideas on writing.. what writing should do, what it should do for the one writing. It’s not just the reader we seek appease. US. The self. Doing for self is not selfishness.. it’s the only way to ensure complete quietude.
Morning thousand even though I didn’t aim for it. Wine, writing, kids, yesterday’s run, the capture of Jack in front of the bottles, possibilities….
Later in the day, just after 2pm, and want another latte. Jack on a zoom call, virtual birthday party, and I find myself in a lull thinking about music and looking at some lyrics I wrote earlier. HAVE NOT, forgotten my poetry collection.. songs. Jackie and I this morning listening to Rebelution in the car and making up our own lyrics. Just fooling, but the activity and exercise stuck with me.
One of Jackie’s friends makes one of those Dumb and Dumber-like most annoying sounds in the world. Need to excuse myself I’m thinking. Quarantine influence, and not in an advantageous way. Putting on beanie, taking a ride.
The attempt of everyone on zoom singing happy birthday nearly cracks my composure, completely. Now they play with voice filters… ugh, need music. More of the chill reggae from this morning. Yes, getting out of here. If you’re a parent, and you’re alive right now, you feel this, what I’m feeling. What I’m needing. A latte, and quiet, or my own desired nose—music.
Wrote more lines in petite song book. Another latte. 4 shots when it should have been three but I guess I accidentally said 4 when they asked me to repeat and I know I said three the first time. One song done by day’s end. Limiting self to three of these small pages.. Jack in office with me reading to himself from one of his learning programs and me just over here in the corner obsessed with writing. It’s expensive but I think I’m going to buy the Sedaris Master Course. You know what… FUCK IT. I am. Think it’s like $85 or $90 bucks, but, as I said, in the most quarantine vibe and dialect ever….
(Should probably refrain from and cut down on any profanity as little Kerouac has been quite investigative of late, looking at and through my LinkedIn profile, and I think my Sonic profile on the Enterprise/Account Executive page. So, so noted. This will be one last such expression even though it’s entirely permissible with the quarantine mind and action, reaction pattern and principle sight.)