Friday 5/7/10, Amendment
What varietal would I be? I estimate a very tannic Cabernet, one that needs well over an our to settle down, into any semblance of balance. If I were a bottle, I would have to be blended. I need to be blended. My aggression in recent entries is displeasing to me. This is not an apology, but a reckoning that my inner calm needs to stabilize tenacity and ferocity. I’ve been in the mode of assault, of late, and it’s a bit much for my reflective and literary palate. Yours too, I’m sure.
Me, the bold bottled bully, now blended with my more easing traits. Palatable, in this Now and forward. A new author, healthy poise, not as much tannin, or noise. Cheers...
Th. 5/6/10. Stale. Recorded a spoken word piece earlier, made an instrumental and finished another spoken piece. So why has the momentum abandoned me like I have some artistically terminal cornel? Tonight, a Cab from B.R, Cohn. Love that winery, its story. And yes, I love the Doobie Brothers. Need to make my way out there. Maybe I’ll review tonight’s bottle. I’ve had it before, and remember it pouring quite deliciously. Should put it into writing.
Back from dinner with Mom and Dad. Such wonderful people, my parents. Tonight, even after great discussions with them, an incomparable dinner, I’m blank. A flavorless wafer. Sipping, nothing happening. Reading the poetry I earlier put to sheet. Why can’t I now have the same energy? 300 words, this eventide’s objective. Still sad about BOOK ONE’s Now, on the shelf, retired before birth, chance.
The Cabernet tonight, didn’t stir me. Not the bottle, it’s me. I’m upside down, in Wonderland. The flavors and notes, aromas, were there, but I couldn’t react, record. Something’s not right with 2nite. How is it 10:56p? Post-Modern paradox, this night. Time, ignoring my concerns and realizations. My ego is subdued by the Now. I don’t know if I’ll reach my goal. Something is for certain bent.
Going to take my entries to the street. Yes, like the Doobie Brothers. Maybe I shouldn’t write for a few days, like B suggested the other day. Just live life, retain what I retain. Should drive to a city I never visit. Park, and walk. Healdsburg, Novato, Sausalito? I don’t know, but I do realize I need to creep outside of character. The close approaches. So, now I realize how close 31 is. Not that old, right? Mos Def is older than I, and he’s a phenomenal writer, performer. I still have time. Lots.
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