before babies and wife are moving about. Not the same feeling in writing as I had yesterday… Short […]
at St. Francis Winery, showing me poetic vocal and encouraging me explore all heights and hillsides…
wine descriptions. Utterly odd… Wet New York streets, tile, sweetened cat litter, plastic straw, fast food cup… fog.
And 39 just treks and trudges toward me. I have the wrong attitude about it, age 39 and […]
is harnessing themselves to scripts, and numbers they have to hit. Speak the language and story and scene […]
But more so, time. Some narrating seraph that wants a writer to see more. Now sitting on floor […]
Like new life in the vineyard, new life in me and all of us.