Monday, December 6, 2010

untitled Room

9:14pm.  Tired.  Not at all looking forward to the early wakeup for the 8am class, tomorrow.  Have to keep telling Self, “This is the last week of this nonsense.” Current evening, so far, just what I require, demand: peace, still.  No wine tonight, as I am journalistically phantom-like. Need to get my publication off the ground, vinoLitMag...
My mind, beneficially narrowing, focusing, CONSOLIDATING.  Just submitted my magazine article.  Excited about all potentials with the new winery.  An unfamiliar flavor of revival, with their tasting Room, wines, staff.  Like I’m artistically and cognitively resurrected.
Should stop writing, but I don’t want to.  No, I’m truly unable.  No Self control, when in sessions like this.  I thank the new wines, winery.  Discovery, curiosity, intensifying with rich echelons, stages, scenes.  Cataloguing my continuation as a wine scribe.  Looking at my photographs of the dormant vines, realizing I’m opposite.  But that’s fine.  Anticipating their sequential cohabitation with my Literary reactions.   
Maybe a glass of something 2nite would be good for me.  Or not.  No.  Have a meeting of meaningful gravity, come morrow.  Feel like the profile of my syntactic arrangement fails in pursuit.  Dynamism, that’s what I need catapult.  Need the night’s coherence, to map what follows, unfolds for the ACTUAL manuscript.  Sip, sip...
(Monday, 12/6/2010)

No comments:

Post a Comment