Back from wine mission, sipping wine, here in kitchen’s nook.  Another day of 3PAGES.  So the novel’s approaching.  Five days from now, I’ll be back in class, and I’m more than “glad”.  Tomorrow in tasting Room– or no, in reserve room.  Lucky bloody me.  I’ll make material from it, surely.  Tomorrow night, I’m in house alone.  So that means, WRITING.  Tomorrow’s to be an early morning, with Alice’s car needing repairs, or some kind of checkup.  So no writing, less I wake with monstrous promptness, 5AM or before.  But I have the night, that much is known.  I plan to order in a ridiculously fine meal, and open an equally offensive wine.  What?  I’m thinking…  A Pinot?  Yes.  OR no.  Maybe one of my AV Cabs.  I’ll decide when I’ve decided.  So happy I came in under budget with today’s Napa mission.  Tomorrow night has to be monumental with its demonstrative progress.  I’ll be printing, writing, wining, thinking, LIVING.  And I’m sure the walk with Dad, in Annadel’s Park, will catapult my ideas into some beneficial sphere, I’m sure.  Our discussions always do.  And walking in the woods, even writing by it as I many times do in the morning, dashes onto pages with an antagonizing grind.  Makes me think of the walks that I took with Uncle Stevie, when I was young, much younger, in the 3 Sisters Forest by his and Auntie Linda’s house.  Seems like so long ago, when Katie and I would play baseball in that area surrounded by tall trees.. we had bases set up with scary precision, believing we’d created our own ballpark…  But those days, well past.  And that’s Time.  And all I can do is write.  Enough to make me want to write, sip more.  Tomorrow night, I wage the most vicious assault on Time I’eve ever mustered.  I’ll be a weaponized mustard.. gaseous, disabling its abilities– Tomorrow night, I’ll be ageless, timeless, invincible.  Much like I feel right now, in this nook, on this teetering table, even with my wallet under the leg to my immediate left, the four 1 dollar bills, right, wagging one way, another, like there’re gusts in this corner of our condo’s first floor.  Think I have one more glass of my cuvée left.  C——, on the mind, in sight.  I see her, tasting as we did today, contemplative, thinking of how she wants her wines to taste in comparison.  She was with me today, taking more notes than her author.  (3/19/14)