12:!3p. Clocking in. Leaving for event in a little over an hour. Want to get there early, maybe to help setup. This mission, focusing on writing, with the alliance of only a few photos. This may sound maniacal to you, but I need to write more. Edit more. Read much, much more. MY material, and other pen-movers.
Beautiful day outside. Just felt shivers about my sphere, this Now: chilled wine Lounge beats, syllable session, here, with readers. My Saturday, my day. Mine. this writer’s. While on music’s tide, I wonder what kind of arrangements’ll be played today. What type of food presence I’ll meet. Distracted; note under my right elbow, to print pages 23-49 of a mikeslognoblog document, for BOOK1. Was thinking about blending it down, the book, into 2 or 3 smaller page bricks. Should I? A question that only a lovely SONOMA COUNTY bottle of wine could answer, for this SoCo Kid.
I’m hoping to taste some Merlot today, not sure why. Haven’t been connecting much with the flirty, shy Bordeaux of late, with the exception of Swanson’s cosmic ’07. Was it ’07? Think so. Doesn’t really matter, as I still taste it, without my vision sinking into the sheetrock at my 12. I summon, it returns. That’s what kind of Merlot it was, still is. Like an obscure novelette I found buried on the shelves of an independent bookstore. Will be returning to that Rutherford haven to taste, buy. Sooner than my wallet wishes this author to.
Am I as Literary as I want to be, or should be? A little assessment of Self: write much more. 1K each day, consolidate. WRITE & RELEASE .. don’t preoccupy Self with editing, rearrange. The words fell onto the sheet as they did with prominent purpose; just as the winemaker allows the terroir 2speak, I leave to words to be sipped by their readers.
- 7/16/11, Saturday -