Rain, now, with these concluding hours. Me, not a drop of urgency for this page. Shameful. Maybe another sip’ll help. No. And I’m quite sure you’re thinking, “How much has he had?” This beer, my second, and evening’s last. And nothing before the two. More interested in listening for accidental alignments with raindrop rhythm alongside this Thievery Corporation track. Learning from my writing habits, especially today. Had another idea for a novel. Who knows if I’ll follow through. Not sure that’s quite my custom. My strength lies in unpredictable splashes. I think. Reading last night’s fiction, the last posted on this blog, log. All other such, saved for books. 10:52p currently. Easily one of the longest days I’ve had in some time, why I’m typing so dilatorily. Rain seems to be intensifying. Have missed it so much. Want to experience rain in Maui, Costa Rica, Florida, New York. MY first book tour, taking me where. Hopefully I find out soon. Maybe 2nite, in dreams. If Kelly’s painting right now, what would her brush be building? Wish I could see. Last night she told me that she sold a few glasses, and then two paintings. Why can’t I do such with these writings? Independent Winemakers do so with their bottles. Have to develop a real, realistic, reality-realmed “business plan.” Term gives me solicitude, revulsion. Nausea. But that could be advantageous, to be altogether out-of-character.
Just going to keep writing. I mean, that’s all I can do, right? No wine tomorrow night, either. Saving my next bottle for a warranted writing. Need to start running, for my next run, race. On the the 29th, actually. That’s the one I’m hoping to do. In a forest, I believe. Let’s see what these wine world rain romps think... Saying I need to figure it out on my own. See my Wine Bar, again. It tells me precisely what I want to hear, which I’m not convinced is what I need, now. Begging the clouds deliver harsh counsel.