After the shift hectic, I to the keys return. No time to feel odd. In the glass, Alderbrook’s ’07 Estate Zin. Tight, spicy, revolvingly flavorful, focused. I have decided: mikeslognoblog will be closed at this year’s close. Want books on shelves, written by me. Was told today by some guests in the Room that an author I enjoy self-published his latest work, Rex Pickett. More than ever, I’m entrenched in my Self-publishing endeavors. With the Letterz, and forward.
Although today was nonstop in the Room, I found it rewarding, especially with the accompaniment, the support and knowledge of Ramona, my most prized of colleagues. A tasting Room cannot operate without communication and coherence. AND, it must have effective management, a foundation that is more educating, helpful, supportive, than punitive, micro-managerial. Like a play on stage, a Room must have an interactive synergy when in the state of task.
Done talking about tasting Room idealism. Makes the rattler pulsate, the venom tumble to fang. Moving onto the Literary. Not sure if I’m ready for another glass of the Estate. Just starting to pace Self, don’t want to force composition coagulation. Just going to listen to this Wine Lounge-centered arrangement. Subtle percussion, seductively spacey reverb. Writer fiending for moments like this. Yet more proof that wine lends itSelf most frequently, optimally, to moments memorable.
Not looking to pass the thousand. Starting to feel better, so I aim to delight, resurrect in this pairing of varietal and songs specified. The morning mocha, already calling me. Can’t give such my mental’s entertainment. What deserves sight and scope: wine, itSelf, its Literary elements. Today, reminded me. It reminded the pages. Today, in this session speaks. Tomorrow, more notes. For the book. For me. For you. For us. Sipping, now, and all sessions in tow, for readers. All truly in session with me.
Saving the session’s detritus for pages. Actual pages. I’ll make it gourmet. Ones tangible. Ones comprising BOOKS. Another sip...surprised. Time, pushing me to lines aside. Not taking it personally. Just writing my way through and past the reality. This Zin, its own pose. I think it taunts me, to be bold, just as she is. Writers need to disregard discretion. Leap. And this penman, invites collision. But through words, paragraphs. Now delectable, in notes of spice, light cherry, subtle earth, vanilla. Gentle, massaging mouthfeel. Low contents in bowl. Nightcap, welcome. Just checked, new Composition pages by bed. WRITER4LIFE...
Turning off heater. The key slaps’ll keep Mike cozy. Just like my character. Always wondering where she is. But isn’t that up to me? Her concept, her amorous aggregate, too much for this hour. So, I need a distraction. And that distraction...dreams. Of my publishing company. I’ve started it, with the Letterz. Even if I’m giving some away. Well, only one. Today. To a friend at Starbucks. Either way, the company arrived. Here.
Need an ocean. Just to look at. The Zin told me, this session. Where am I going with this? Nowhere. And nowhere continues in beauty. Just as my character does. Her walks in Paris, she thinks of what I do: art. Tonight, with this ’07, oracle. Us.