7 miles yesterday, okay pacing. Whole day with Nurse, some football, then I’m here. Time faster than usual it seems. Nurse getting her a bit over an hour ago. In office now closing day, driving around East Windsor looking for small businesses, first time the Nurse and I have done that.
Fun, and much more altogether enjoyable with her of course. Noticed myself fading a bit, catching a later-afternoon sinker unlike others recent. So, double espresso. Sip slow, let it land in blood stream. Writing freer than free, freer than usual-Me.
15:59, haven’t typed in a bit. Angry with self. Type in morning, make tomorrow’s early A.M. a project. Woke early this morning but no writing, which was fine. Spending time with Nurse while the dark still outside dominated, talking and holding each other, both of us recognizing time and its relentless dismissiveness.
New Story, closer. Friend Oz today at lunch saying he’s noticed my recent “inspiration” as he called it with wine. Not sure what I’d call it, but something like that. Like when I first started at St. Francis, or that year Katie and I made our Cabernet, or when I made the Merlot and blend with another at-the-time new dad, Blair.
Wine is a reminder, a sentence stream of understanding and constant learning. The espresso is helping, learning. More composed, this writer.
The book, on wine or life or being a dad, being in love, or.. what. Maybe everything. Yes, I’d say EVERYTHING. Feels good to type like this, as free as I feel. Lady I met with earlier a salon owner here in Windsor, heavy on media and education, very beaming business model and narrative. Looking closer at it, seeing characteristics this writer/“professor” need emulate and practice.
My Personal Legend, if you would. Look at the telephone, left, a landline that I no longer use. Everything is changing. This writer, more a writer, and just in the past hour. Driving around Windsor with the Nurse, Running from one idea and act to the next, then stopping to collect for more Composition, elevated intensity and purpose.
All I can think of is the vineyard, and going back. Then the classroom. Finishing these books then traveling… this stage in the Story where the character knows he’s not where he should be and this sitting is the invite to rewrite it. All of it.
EVERYTHING.
Sipping the espresso slower. Hear the Nurse laughing in the loft, not sure at what. She has my heart so many times over it’s still hard for me to understand and translate to myself. Our relationship, more than a “relationship”, more than some simple association or category. More Composition, I take myself away, rise above my own story for a second and try to place SELF in a jolt of objectivity.
A challenge at first, but then I settle in. To a new writer mode – Mike calms himself, knows this will be a memory at some point. He can hear the Nurse upstairs, watching something and laughing then he laughs, forgets about work. Looks at a picture of them from the other night at the Winters restaurant.
He’s still, grateful, in love with what he’s recalling, reading, about to write.