Posts Tagged With: Art

And like that, grading done. 

In the adjunct cell, 10:39, and have two full hours to Self.  TWO.  to write and be me and be free.. and I love this feeling to the point of treating myself to another coffee!  Need to upload content to teaching blog, but not after, or rather before, I write for Self.  When grading is done and out of the way, as you can see, my entire disposition and temperament is more optimized.  Look at me soar in this office meant to make me and all other adjuncts feel imprisoned.  Tomorrow’s my travel day, Solano and Mendo.. but I don’t have to think about that now.  At all.  And I’ll get to recording the grades I just marked around 12:30.. so just under two hours.  So I don’t have as much time to write as previously measured but the adjunct’s content, I’m alive and with my fire needed.  Had a bit of a scare with technology just minutes ago, when turning on the laptop all you saw was that segmented rotating wheel, the desktop would never land.  Just a reminder to use tech less, to write in the Comp Book more and build that content.  I’m cutting back on spending, no Starbucks visit this morning, as to save money for laptops, for Alice and I.  Not that I’m looking for an excuse to get one, I’m due anyway, but this is a reminder, this latest scuffle, to save more and hurry to buy, before it’s too late.

Talking outside, instructors full-time and adjunct, all disturbing me, and why, why do I let it, this, this campus and the adjunct life and the fact that I’m not in the vineyard or on a crushpad somewhere bother me?  I need to be with wine; making it and writing about all steps of the ‘making’ process which I like to now look at as more of a translation, of both vintage and site, the varietal and the Earth of that site.  I’m a head of my morning schedule and I allow my mind to wander and wonder but not too far, each thought has to be a solid standalone piece, right?  And THAT reminds me.. write another poem for the collection.  THAT, I will print, about fifteen copies to start and see how it sells.  The poetry of me during my busiest semester, ever.

Didn’t post the teaching blog write, below.  And I’m glad I didn’t.  Want the Solano students to see the post I put there for them and I want for them to seize the invitation to continue our talks.. but I can only encourage and then hope as the modern student and reader doesn’t want to take the time, I feel.. it’s quickness they want, the same immediacy of social media and email and a text message.  Which of course disenchants me, as you see.

Need to keep with my pace this morning and why do I keep telling myself what I already know?  Just saw a picture of some hands, in a vineyard and over a barrel, hand de-stemming some Cabernet in Napa.  Wish I were there, doing the same, making MY wine, showing how I [!!!] translate vineyard and vintage.  So I start thinking about 2016 and my deadlines, with mmc, the startup project, my writings and my daughter arriving in December, and the students and what I have to assign them.. breathing, finding Zen in the hectic hold of it all.  Easy.

Switching to the teaching blog, posting the day’s plan and the points I want to hit in my speaking, interact more and depend on student interaction less.  That’s many times where the lesson can fracture, when I solicit response and hear the air conditioner.

(9/2/15)

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Sipping Beatific Beats

IMG_8199For some reason, hot downstairs in the Autumn Walk castle.. and me, I’m writing freely sipping a red blend from someone I appreciate and study and admire.  The whole day, today, my mood volatile.  The papers already stacking, part of the reason.  So I.. needing some reasoning in this, focus on wine, the story and how I want to write it and eventually make it.  The story of wine and, whatever I can think of.  I think I’ve reached the extent of what I can take on in terms of projects so I now I begin this great consolidation, an act I’ve been entertaining and writing about for years, but now it’s necessitated by all I’ve taken on.. Solano and Mendo.. why.. to stay out of the tasting room?  I don’t know, but I–  Nevermind.  Soon I’ll have my night’s cap and just meditate.  Going to throw away what I can and let projects come to fruition as they want.  And I won’t let myself get distracted from my perfect world vision.. the readers and viewers are the only ones I need please.. with this new startup, the ‘3v’ project I’m codifiedly calling it.

This wine reminds me of some of the bottles I sipped in France, at that little bistro just down theIMG_8196 street from the hotel, Le Petit Journal– god I hate this anxious feeling right now.  Must be the heat of the house or something.  Need another glass of the red to calm me so I can think.  I obviously have accepted too much into this semester’s docket.  Living from my freewrites, about wine, and the startup idea, sharing photos and wine information and language about wine, and notes, thoughts.. but NO scores!  This will be a human/non-critical site.  For true wine embrace and centeredness.  I look left, to the floor where all my adjunct articles, be it papers or documents or syllabi, and wonder how I’d feel if it were completely gone, that was filtered out of my life.  No teaching?  Yes.  For a bit.  Just writing.  Walking from the car and into Whole Foods I thought of blogging, and writing and blogging about wine, and about Life, on this blog and this new site, and wonder if I could make it IMG_8148work, if I could gather enough a readership materialize a different life for my family and I.  I will.  I have to.  The wine will make it so and my story and trek to making my own wine.  I know that’s where I’m headed, getting positive feedback even from the two wines I made in ’12 with Blair.  I will make wine, and I will have my own room, but by appointment only.  Sorry.  Just being open to the public I feel makes you like a deli, or a hardware store– no, not to say that all wineries or tasting rooms that are open in door-philosophy are, just–  I don’t know what I’m saying.  Just poured my night’s capping and I’m relaxed.  I deserve this moment, thinking about my wine and the winemaking philosophy I want to execute, and how I want to be in the vineyards everyday, even during dormancy, go for walks as I do with my Arista friends.  And just think, feel what the vineyard is saying to me and if the fruit has been picked as it has in Two Birds and Harper’s (both Arista blocks), then I see if it wants me to measure the next yield, the next cascade of chapters and narrative, fruit and cluster prominence and what the wine’s to be seen as, vineyard or vintage reflective?  That’s the end to these written and adjunct’d means.. the wines I make and sell.  Going to email Kaz tomorrow and see what he has to say, see if he can offer some sagacity.  Or maybe I should do this on my own, wholly.  That would make a better story anyway, the adjunct professor leaving the profession or at least partly to make his own wine, start a family business and be in the vineyards and translating the fruit.  My own Beat– and speaking of which, I wonder how many words I’m at for the day.. just took another hugging sip of the blend, now it shows more rich dimensionality than the first couple glass-tilts.

Today, Day 1 of no Starbuck, just like Alice, though I’m not as disciplined as she, I’m set on changing my character and saving money for my first two barrels in 2016, one red and one white– or maybe I should have typed that reversedly, and more specific– Sauvignon Blanc, Merlot.  “Why not Cab?” you’ll ask.  “Aren’t you a ‘Cab guy’?” Yes, but I want to produce, again, the varietal that pulled me into wine’s Road, that brought me to the pursuit of wine and its voices and dimension and what the whole business and story set is all about.  Have my eye on this one winemaker from.. I think Cloverdale.. anyway, want to interview him for writing purposes but also to learn about how to start, how to get off the ground with the bottles you produce.  This all has to happen now.. so all the mmc prospects that could call, and if they do, will be quite disappointed when I tell them, “I’m at a full client-load now, sorry.” I’m going to pour my entire Self into my classes this term, and my writing clients, save, and start to scout my vineyards.. I know enough people to I’m sure get a deal, but I’ll see.  The SB, I want divided, 50/50, one part free-run, the other kept with skins then pressed soonafter, then tanked for a bit, then barreled.  And the Merlot, I want purist, dirty and earthly, a terrestrial taunt–

Just had an idea, on wine and writing about it, how some call me a “Wild Wine Writer”.  Why not embrace that, be like a, funny I’d say this, “Howard Stern of wine blogging”.  Why not?  I should take another sip, go piss, and come back to this couch and meditate on that.. no?  And no, I’m not drunk.  I wish I was!  I’d be writing much more provocatively, I’ll tell you.

(8/31/15)

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After a full day of wine, I’m here

iIMG_8209n the home office writing about wine, wine stories and wine visions, tasting today at a Healdsburg tasting room that was started by a guy who blogged his whole cellar experience.  Bought one bottle of Pinot then left.  Since home, or since finishing dinner, I’ve been writing and editing pieces for clients, finishing my final glass of Sanglier SB, and into my writings.  Alarm will be set for 5AM and there’s no way I can ignore the sound, no matter how annoying it may come off.  My coffee arsenal replenished by Ms. Alice, and I think more of making wine and living in wine and writing about it, everything I discover from fermentation strategies to oak regiments to bottling, to ‘do I use foil or not’, to what do I pair this with (which I think is totally overblown.. I mean why do you have to stress or excessively deliberate over pairing?  Why pair at all?).  So my wined thoughts get away from me then come back, and I would love to go to sleep right now, having been up just after six, with little Kerouac charging me as I lay on the couch only from him calling me out of bed to go get him and walk him back to our bed which he then would annex.

Again waiting for technology to cooperate.  I’ll tell you honestly reader I’m getting tired of this dependency and this waiting.  Quite through with it if you must know, which you probably already know.

Have to email a winemaker friend of mine, see when he’s back in town, want to interview him about his new projects and see if he’ll taste me on the new releases of his, all of which I love the concept, of the rebellion and being “proof” of something, or rather, immune to something, not phased by it and what be.  The airconditioner comes on and I wonder why, not that hot in here, or down here in the study but maybe it is upstairs in Jackie’s room, so then I don’t fret with its whooshing and light hum.  My desk a mess but I’m making it through my checklist, the one I started at the winery on on the back of one of the tasting menu cardstocks, if that’s what you call them.

Ready to post last piece for client 2, then I can entertain going to bed early.  Told Ms. Alice in a text earlier today from work that I had so much writing to get done and that I’d be up at 12AM, no later.  Could be earlier, I’m hopeful…  But who knows, who knows with me and wandering attention but tonight I’m quite well fairing.  But then I tire and think about sleep, and waking up early as I want to (reminds me I need to cue the coffee, get everything in position for my early session).  10:40 the time now, and I definitely feel the hours catching me, funny, thought I would be able to stretch till midnight no problem, but there’s a problem: I’m Human.

(8/30/15)

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Wine Chap in his Chapters

7:53, and Alice out for her walk, me drafting 450-something words for a spotlight piece on IMG_8175Boekenoogen, that Pinot I last night studied very much still in sensory memory, with the revolving wild berry rumbles and songs…  Could have easily had another glass, but refrained as I wanted to be alert and able for little Kerouac, who’s now on the floor to my distant left (living room, me here in kitchen, at counter/island), singing new songs learned in school.  “How are you today, sir.. very well, I thank you.. run away… run away…” And he repeats, looking over at me and smiling.  I think then immediately of a family business, that is my sole mission with all this, one that will sustain us as a family, provide us what we need and maybe a vacation here and there, and that farm or vineyard, put my babies through college.. and what be.  And maybe this is expanded and emboldened by the Boekenoogen family and story, I don’t know.  But I’m thinking.  About my family and what I want for us, for my kids– or at least to give them the option to come work at the vineyard, tasting room, ranch or what be.  But I need to get the startup off the ground first.. material material more MATERIAL.  The goal today.. take at least one postable picture every hour.. starting here in home then when I get to Arista.

8:02.  Not letting time get to me this morning, and it’s funny I didn’t think I was scheduled for today but I am and I’ll make it work for me and the novel, my books and this business I’m starting for my family– now little Kerouac wants me to watch how he arranges and lines the cars, like he’s on stage and like I’m to offer some sort of feedback but I have no interesting but only to praise and encourage him.

IMG_81868:03–  “Hey, Daddy.. look a’ what I making for you!” See?  How can can do anything but smile and laugh and prompt him to keep going?  Like my friend Chelsea said recently, “Wine business is a family business.” Indeed.  Which reminds me I need to write something for her as well..  Where’s the time to do that?  I’ll find it somewhere, maybe after I drop those cases of Mendo off at the Healdsburg spot.. a restaurant, whatever it’s name is– well, I know, just not how to spell it and it’s not important, all that matters now is the writing and getting through this semester and starting the startup faster than any other startup out there or that’s ever been conceived of being conceived.

This has to stem from my reconnection to the Boekenoogen story, reading their history and tasting the Pinot last night and the new vision I have of everything.. timing, timing.. ah the music and poetic pulse of it all, the iambs and dactyls, trochee and melody sprees…

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8:12.  Jackie continues to arrange his cars and I stay with eyes revolving from this screen then back to him.. I can already see him, in the office with me then out in a vineyard, walking as Dad I used to do in Big Basin park just by our Santa Cruz home.. discovery and more poetry, narrative and self-education and the lectures compile deliciously.. need to see what other Bookenoogen wines I have in the closet behind me, but no matter what I count I’ll more order, that much I know, that much I write..

(8/30/15)

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Pinot and the Penner

IMG_6856On my last Pinot glass, and feeling relieved and free, with this consolidating urge, all writings funneled and filtered into one effort or voice, or book– that’s what it is!  I say to myself.  I need only to write books.  This wine tells me to fall further into wine’s story and into the voracious vortex that laments my wine curiosities.  and I won’t lie, reader, I very much feel the wine tonight, oh yes I do like Hemingway at La Coupole, scribbling away at my novel and — then I think of something else to do.  Away with this notebook, I tell you– or laptop rather (that wast he wine typing, there)… earlier writing in my little notepad on the patio of this Autumn Walk base, looking out at the street, watching Jackie play with his friends and even when there was no one there, on that pavement, I thought of the moment and how terrific, utterly, it was and is to be here on this street as a writer, watching you only son interact with the other younglings… another sip of this Boekenoogen ’13 Pinot.  Knowing I need to have my own label directly in motion at 2016’s beginning, seeing my son in the tasting room, greeting people and telling them we’re pouring this, that, a blend and a single vineyard whatever…

Getting up at 5AM tomorrow morning, somehow.. last glass nearly finished.  But then I look down at, to left to couch’s side, and I see I have at least two maybe three lion-like licks left.  Shit.. why did I pour myself another glass?  I blame myself and the day back at the winery today and how it, Arista, even more made the writer yodeling in wine’s promise.  So now what.. I guess just drink my glass last, and watch a movie, one that will keep the writing writing in morrow’s harsh morrow.

(8/29/15)

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More Wined Ideas

With my night’s cap, at the kitchen counter, thinking about tomorrow, day one at another IMG_5253campus.  Taking inventory of everything, and knowing my little girl’s arrival is evercloser, I know what I need to cut, or just remove.  All my focus needs to be here, in SONOMA County, and with wine, my wine businesses and efforts.  Tonight before bed, which is in less than an hour I promised myself, told my wife, I need to start designing this new site.  Where the consumer finds wined centeredness, concerning wine education.. winemaking.. wine-food pairing.. wine collecting.. again.. more than just one-dimensional cliffsnotes and remedial plebeian puzzles and hopscotch crackgames.  This will be a site of centrality, one for appreciation and theory and wined thoughts.  Again me linking my academic background and love, just pure LOVE, for wine.  I start at 10PM, which is in 6 minutes.  The first idea I start with.. a picture.  One I’ve already posted to this blog, but with different words narrating it, or supporting or surrounding it.  Or maybe nothing– no there has to be something, right?  I have to encourage discussion as I do in class.  Another sip of the Sumpin’ and my thoughts go everywhere.  Like my pictures of wine in a glass, someone saying they look the same.  Well, Copernicus, they’re not the same.  At all.  Different wines, different glasses (maybe), different times and occasions and thoughts when sipping at that defined moment.  Different poetry and music and all.

Wine to me is like the turning on of music in the morning while driving to work, to one of my three campuses at whatever time of day.  It’s necessitated not just by appreciation but by the story of wine and all the stories that contributed to what I’m sipping; when the crew woke to launch into the vineyard or vineyards to harvest the fruit.  It’s a certain bottled schism between reality and fantasy; palatable romanticism, read and unread, to be read, from palate and senses all.  My favorite class, in glass.

(8/26/15)

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Up and writing. 

Finished a piece for client 2.  Jackie still asleep.  After taking him to school I’m going to come back here and do a thorough inventory of everything in this writer’s written life.  Everything off the desk, and everything organized.  Wanted to wake earlier this morning but you know how that goes…

Not in any rush this morning.  I’m tired of rushing and feeling rushed and always looking at the clock.  I’m done.  For today.  For this morning.

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Just went upstairs to check on his, still very much asleep.  And I’m going with the flow, not stressing and certainly not bothering him, to wake Jackie now would be selfish, would be to get him on my timeline.  Well lucky for him, and me, this morning there is no deadline or timeline.  I’m enjoying my morning and my coffee and my writing, and re-organizing.  Looking at a picture I posted last night I realize it’s all about wine for me, and the union with literature and writing and storytelling, education and exploration; SELF-education and all that be.  I look at the other pictures I’ve taken, as I have these last couple days and realize there’s more, and this startup that’s on my brain, like a superblog, or some grand journal meant for sharing and for educating, bringing wine lovers to their favorite wines.. connecting consumers or just curious wine drinkers to wines they may like.. let these great creative tidal waves continue in their pleasant attack!  Have to edit the client’s piece– or check on little Kerouac again.. let me decide, or not– OH!  Have to type out the lecture from last class, and that will give this writer an edge on today’s sessions.  Thinking of my current business model and how everything is broken down, how I charge to what clients expect to what material I put on this new project of mine, name of which I’ll keep withheld for a bit, but it WILL change everything.. everything…..  EVERYTHING.

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Another check on my little Artist, and…..  Still sleeping.  Poor little bloke.  Must be tired from all that play yesterday in the Autumn Walk horseshoe, with his little friends and their first cars, the little motorized ones with a cheap radio inside to make them feel grownup.  Grownup.. mature.. something I want to be but don’t.  And why?  ‘Cause then you get reasonable, you start over-reasoning.  The fun stops.  Not me, and not with this new project.

Another struggle with tech ensues, and yes it’s with downloading some pictures.  Always with this.  But I put myself in the position, being a blogger or whatever I’m called.  Hear Jack waking, finally, at 7:37, I think.  So accomplished two writings this morning; for client and Self.  No loss at all.  And hopefully my little Beat’s well rested.

Forgot to note that I finished three standalone poems yesterday– or, one longer piece and two haikus, for the short collection I’m putting together and planning to soon print, publish, let out in the world– but so much more to do.  Going up the stairs again to check on little Sal Paradise…..

Back from taking J to school, posted piece to client blog, now fiddling with photos, and about to pull trigger on new blog/site idea..  Not revealing the name here, as I said, and I don’t mean to be antagonistic in saying such, but I need to keep my cards withheld.. and now that I think, I need to do a bit more brainstorming on it before I do pull the trigger.  And why do I have to phrase it like that, “pull the trigger”?  What?  That’s not how I speak and certainly not how I write, I’m here in the study with all this professor evidence around me and my 3-shot mocha, and so thankful for this peace this moment and this sanity at least FOR this moment.  Haven’t heard from two prospects but I’m not letting that into or under my skin even minutely.  One of these prospects always expresses something but–  No, not on this page.  The story of me and wine and the Pinot I tasted last night, from Napa when on my little Napa mission to downtown, then eating at that “Rose” joint.  With that bar, the burger I had and the fries I started and meant to save for Jackie but finished on the long drive home, driving through Glen Ellen/Warm Springs/Bennett Valley.  Looking at the clock, thinking in terms of deadlines, that’s the only way to make this, any of this, “this”, happen.  In shower by 11, latest, post this entry then start on brainstorming of new site..  fiddle with layouts and formats and images.. the purpose is to– save it for the brainstorming page, Mike!  That can’t be hacked.. that can’t be stolen.

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Excited to get back out into the vineyard on Friday with Glenn, seeing where I will be next vintage, making my own wine and seeing it ferment, develop and change and become more characterized.. my wine, my label, and I won’t fail in this label, the whoso cellars vision finally coming to its awaited stature and stance.

Pushing to finish this sitting, this thousand words, and I don’t know why now all of a sudden I want to pursue Zinfandels.  Why?  I’ve always disparages the varietal and more or less looked down upon it.  Why the certain curiosity?  I think, and I’m quite sure actually, it’s from the Arista Zin that’s now poured in the tasting room.

Now more ideas me accost.. but I can’t take on too much with these 4 classes, I know, believe me.  So I pause, and I wait, and not be too reactive.  This methodology will make me a more proficient writer and better businessman in the run long, I know..  Still have to finish the syllabus for the Mendo section.  See?  How could I possibly take on more?  My daughter will be proud of her writer-papa, when she arrives this December, she’ll see how hard I’ve worked and she’ll be more than elated to know all my focus in that moment is on HER.  My family.  And nothing else.

(8/26/15)

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Souled on in about for Wine

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The barrel and its inner-narrative

At the home office desk trying to upload some articles for clients, no surprise.  And the rest of this Albariño in my glass gone, I think about the ideas for this new idea, this new project, on wine and anything wine– wine “education”, wine insight, behind the scenes, interviews and just rich immediate, immersed material like nothing else out there.  But what’s the name of the project?  One idea: ‘winesolife’.  OR, ‘sowinelife’.  But I don’t know, honestly.  I just want “followers” or readers or anyone to know what wine is and what it’s supposed to be– the intention of wine and how’s it’s not supposed to be anything but approachable.  And there’ll be videos and visuals, maybe not of the most hight quality or something studio-laden, but truthful and candid.  And all with wine’s promise and candor.  And it’ll be honest, so when I want to, or anyone I have on my show or podcast or interview or whatever, wants to talk about Napa or challenge anyone promoting wine with that angle, or discriminating, or being that all-too-expected pompous pill of a person in a tasting room or on some tour, then it’ll be cited, discussed.  There’ll be no fear with.. whatever I call this idea.  And the honesty is what will make it sell, make it appealing.  I’m distracted now, messaging with a friend, my brother Dwight.  Miss those lunches with him, the beers and the conversations and the talks about dreams and what’s next.  So much on the writer’s mind, and looking at these photos wine will always be there in some facet and form.  The pictures begin to upload, and I see the minced piece on the Pinot pick in RRV, just a couple weeks ago, or so, and the feel of the air that night and the meteor shower overhead, and looking at the vines while and before they were picked. 

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Dormancy

Wine and life, wine is life and in more ways that the people that say it is know,  From the soil to the weather to the cover crop, to the nutrient adds, to anything you can envision, and it’s sad to me that consumers don’t account for his or much of what this relates or gravitates.

In the morning, I wake at six with Alice’s alarm, she hops to shower and I to the desk to write IMG_4894more and gather thoughts at laptop with coffee.  After leaving Jack at his miniaturized university, I’ll head to Starbucks, and stay there for as long as–  OR, go to campus!  Work there!  Use the adjunct cell as my mmc trench.  I don’t know but I have to do something magnanimous today, with all this wine media I have and all the ideas to be written down.. the ‘winesolife’ idea still simmers as does the ‘barrelnarrate’ thought.  Just have to keep moving and not stop and pack everything I need today, and remember that the English Professor role is to be given a newly-posted priority in my day, now.  As that’s how everyone sees me, a professor.  A writer, yes, but a teacher, one with unique knowledge; an elevated sense of.. something.

Can still feel yesterday’s 13.1.  Have to register for Napa’s, next month, the Healdsburg after that.  Then I think I may be done for the season.  Running.. another facet to me which truly makes me ME, this writing me at the desk at 6:20.

Jack may be waking so I’ll lightly trot up the stairs and poke me head in the room.  Today is going to be profitable in so many ways as well as self-educational…  And he’s still asleep, and I go back to typing after taking a monstrous sip of this coffee, not as well-sung as the coffee yesterday at Flavor Bistro, where Justin and I had breakfast after the race.  Was thinking, while running those final miles, the race provided a new view and appreciation for Santa Rosa, everything from the way the sky looked, to the crowd at the event following the race, to the trails and the tents, everything.  I just saw the town differently.

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Samples in the lab

Just remembered I have a meeting with a prospective client at 10AM.  So no coming back home to work as I thought I might do.  Rather, to Yulupa SBUX to write and collect Self before meeting (with notes, estimate and all aligned), and prep for class, write the first Kerouac lecture on Big Sur; how Kerouac feels and what’s in his mind after such success, and why couldn’t he pull himself out of it?  Keep moving, keep writing…..

At the Yulupa Starbucks, and I keep saying to myself, “The picture,” and “visual… visualize.. make visual!” Will leave for meeting in a little over 30 minutes.  Today is about organizing and execution, the ideas and the insights of everything that interests me and everything in which I have some sort of “authority”, or credibility.  And that’s why I won’t ever shake or rid the professor role and reality.  So many walking by on their phones, detached, not knowing where they are and what they’re doing and what’s in front of them.  Sickening.. with wine and what I provide the wine world, be it consumer or industry, vineyard or lab or tasting room, I will be fully and envelopingly aware, of everything, otherwise nothing’s captured..

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Mom, Little Kerouac, discussing literature

I start with my phone, obviously, the pictures I took at that Sonoma Valley winery, and the ones I’ve snapped wherever, alongside the road at a vineyard or just in my home, wine in a glass.  Then I see pictures of little Kerouac reading a book and walking around  our old condo, with his mama or my mom, then I think about how wine HAS to be family.  Like my friend Chelsea said a few days a go, in a post on.. somewhere, “Wine business is a family business.” And I couldn’t agree more, that is just what I see, my family with our new home somewhere here on the Sonoma side, vineyard and small farm for my children to play and explore as I used to at the Bayview home.  But I need to build, build, build as I started to write in the Massamen novel (which now is a streaming of vignettes and sketches, short fiction and what have).

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Buds and the break

I’m getting my energy back the more I write and sipping this mocha.. three shots, and what I want to say at this meeting, what I want to pitch.  And how I don’t want to undersell myself, even though it’s a friend.  Let’s hear what they want, then go from there, I’m thinking.  Let them do the talking, the draw the numbers and rates.  But be there no longer than an hour.  Need to be in adjunct cell, planning for lectures, writing prompts, and ideas to just throw at the students and see how they react.

(8/24/15)

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Barrel and Narrate

The half-marathon done, and I just scraped some time together to post– or write then post, a piece for client 1.  Now I wait for the day to further evolve and progress, the week to start, have to wake early tomorrow if I can, feeling quite tired from the half and not enough time I feel to get anything done.  Lectures to write, blog posts to finalize.. only way to stay ahead I feel and fear is to wake at 5AM, every morning.

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Alice leaves for school, to get some work done before her week lifts off and my son still asleep upstairs, very much with Time’s invitation to finish projects and brainstorm, and consider reality.. I’m creating all this content for other people, which I’m more than happy to do, but what if I dumped all gathered content, written and visual, and short videos, to one spot.. my site.. and the purpose?  Wine education?  Not so much.. just a telling of wine life, then maybe sell, I don’t know, ads or ad space, or whatever.  Truly get it monetized and have WILD wine-woven startup.. consumers and DTC and advertising, and blogging and letters and reviews.. everything that wine is and is meant to be, fun and Human and inviting.. if I’m sipping wine, what are the first words that me accost?  The other day I was thinking of odd or obscure words to describe the Arista Zin, that 2012 they’re pouring in the TR, and I wrote “Roman”.  I had to laugh at what I wrote, and I wasn’t sipping anything, it just made me laugh, but there was purpose and pertinence to the words.  Like a Roman soldier, something grandly-themed, something historic and history-shifting/making.

I need to move and write with everything as I ran the half this morning.  My best time ever for a half-marathon.  Not by much, but I did well.  That needs to be my momentum with this site, this startup.. and what to call the idea?  Not sure, but I need to think about it.  One thought was “enoguistix” but I hate that ‘ix’ sound.  And I’ve used ‘eno’, or ‘oeno’ too many times already.

Think I hear Jack upstairs stirring a bit.  Good.  Need to shower before Mom and Dad’s and decide what wines I’m bringing up there, or wine, singular.  Have to drive back, remember, and I don’t want to be slowed or with wandering attention as wine and beer seem to do now with my thinking and scribbled conceptions.  Must be a mark of aging, I don’t know.  But even if it’s not, it still reminds me that so much has to be done and there’s not much allowance for idleness, or even a mere moment of still.  M2’s arrival approaches and everything has to be set, scenic, empyrean.

‘fermentopia’.. no, don’t like the ‘topia’.  UGH!  Then what?  How about…  Don’t want to write it here.  Or at all.  Not now.  Going to let the ideas bounce around with each other till something adheres.

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Ma Liste d’Envies

Noticed I dated yesterday’s entry wrong on blog, “3/18” rather than the obvious “8”.  Ran 3 IMG_7013miles this morning in Bennett Valley and now posting to blogs here in home.  Have coffee, mocha of 4 shots and I need a shower, then leave for SRJC campus.  Started to feel overwhelmed but then I just sat down and started writing, this 3rd day of the new term.  Getting in shower in 24 minutes.  Or before.  Waiting for this set of pictures to again upload but I’m not waiting that long, with too much to do.  Today in class, both 1A sections, a little writing and reading and discussion of terms and possibilities with the writings assigned.. sample topics perhaps and how to approach texts before even knowing the author.. let’s see, my thoughts going everywhere…..

Tired from run, only 3 but just the day after hitting 6.2 on tread.  Need to move slow today and–  The train!  A trial run I’m guessing on the tracks just on the other side of the houses across the street.  Loud, honking several long times, stretches calls that you wish would just end.  And they did.  As I was saying, I’ll move slow for the next few days, till Sunday when the ‘half’ lands.

Finally, the photos starting to “download”.  Hate technology but it’s part of what I do–  OH!  Have to email PR Sara….

Done.  And posted to client 2 blog.  Should be getting ready for shower, but I’m not ready to quit this sitting, not yet, not now.  The song that comes on from the Hutcherson station reminds me of those morning sessions in the K—- overflow lot where I’d type just minutes before going in, wondering if I’d get fired.  But now I’m free and in wine’s consistency the way I ought see.  Life now is a true life, with my family and my business, soon to be a family business, with Dad and Mom helping out where they can or wish, and Jackie helping in the mmc office once it’s secured, in Healdsburg.  Has to be Healdsburg.  But I have to work harder, write more, and wake fucking EARLIER!  This morning I was up just after 6, Alice taking an early shower the sounds pulling me from still, and Jackie having kicked me out of bed around 4 calling to me downstairs, me just waking up on the couch.

Thinking of that Pinot last night, the Sanglier “Café” bottle, a split actually.  Perfect amount for the writer, and perfect for my mood, now, starting this semester.  Early to bed tonight and another attempt at waking early in morrow.

Mom and Dad coming back from Sunriver today/tonight, and with that I think of where I want my vacation home, or homes.. Monterey for sure– no, Carmel, and I think a place in Montana.. want to photograph and write about the settings there.. and maybe an apartment in Paris.. wishlist fever.. wish wish wish– WISH.

(8/19/15)

Categories: mikemadigancrEATive | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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