Posts Tagged With: Creative Writing

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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Only Turn (no edits)

11:32 and at Solano Community College.  Have interview with a grower and today I feel urgency and a roaring push in my character to make all this happen, everything I want with wine and with being a winemaker and wine writer and blogger and journalist.  And it all will, I know.  Just had some time freed on the calendar, and I’m going forward with my wined story, seeing the wines I’ll produce and the winery I’m at.. hard to find time to grade and write, but I’ll make everything happen.  And running?  Not sure.. have to look at everything.  Tonight Alice goes out to a birthday dinner with a friend of hers.. and Jack and I left to our Autumn Walk base.  He’ll play and watch his cartoons and I’ll plan, grade, plan grade write blog, measure and plan and be calm sipping the remainder of the Sanglier blend from last night.

Ready for my interview with the growers.  I think.  My approach will be to get into their characters and why they farm as they do, highlighting the connectedness they have with the Earth.  It’s quite interesting, actually, the whole reality and execution of sustainable farming.  I definitely notice in my own character that I’m more interested in the farming side of the wine world, how the vineyards are cared for and how crop is thinned, when you’re supposed to water and the like.  Need to call one of my clients and ask about something concerning.. nevermind.  Stay moving.. think I’m going to get some coffee really quick.. then go back to planning for class.. not stopping for anyone or anything.  I know what I want and I will get it.

Just sent email, now I’m thinking of other pieces of imagery, copy, video, anything for the wine startup, which is intended to “educate” I guess, yeah, but more so just share and distribute the loving reality that wine is and stands for.  Yes I see the value of scores from Spectator and Laube and whomever, but that isn’t everything, in fact it’s a small, small part of what wine tells.  Its collective story.

The great consolidation in my life had begun, and I can only feel an unusually elevated elation and free sense in this all.  The new open spot on the calendar, all the pictures I have dedicated to and for the startup, and everything else for my relationship with wine.. I see Jackie on the crushpad just as Glenn’s granddaughter was a week or so ago.  That’s what wine is.. it’s not sales obsession, it’s not self-anointing.  It’s genuine communication and again that sharing of stories and of loves.

Tonight I’ll be up late and tomorrow I wake early for content devoted to the startup.  There’ll be so many subscribers, I’m quite sure, and devoted readers, that next semester I’ll only be teaching one class.  No, two.  I want to keep my two.  I want my story, at its core, to be me as a professor, as that’s how I’m seen.  That’s what people call me, jokingly and endearingly.

Home, and posting to client’s blog, then the teaching blog, now this Bottled Ox’s blog.  Thinking about the interview today with the grower and how he, and his wife, started from nothing.  “The American dream,” he called it.  And it most poignantly is.  And wha tI want for my site, my .. what do I call it…..  I don’t know.  Not an ad agency.. not a blog, or–  A content shop?  Yeah, I guess, that is what I’ve been calling it, of late..  So a Wine Content Shop.  I’m dropping the word ‘marketing’ because — or maybe I shouldn’t.  My mind’s in a million milieux, scattered and somehow sane in wine, but there’s no wine to drink in this house so I have my night’s cap be a beer, while Alice is out with her friend for her birthday, with several other ‘mommy friends‘ I’m sure.  My little Artist, upstairs asleep, and I think of the students tomorrow and how to come at them– first telling them that I’m handing everything back, then lecturing on the colors of the novel, ‘Sur’, and what it does to modern readers, today, distracted by so much and so many levels.  What would Kerouac think if he were alive today, seeing everyone as they are, with their goddamn faces pinned to a little screen you can hold in your bloody hands? 

And there I was, just a second ago, checking my messages and accounts on my phone here in my home, here in the quiet when I should be holding to the peace I have before I have to be in bed.  This writer’s time is limited.  I’m imprisoned by my business, by my busyness.  But let it be, let it be so, and the TV plays on, I’m not watching, some reality TV my wife would watch.  Her “escape” as it were.

Alice on her way home, with some Thai leftovers.  And me, thinking again about the wine I’ll make, touching those skins and the juice, doing punchdowns by hand and pullups, like I did with Blair in ’13/  wine is my topic– and it’s more than that, my story and progression and how funny would it be if me, a writer/blogger, had his own label before my professional winemaker sister.  Not that I’m in competition with her, as there is no competition.  She’s pro, I’m merely a bloody dreamer.  I just think it would evoke and pull a couple a chuckles…

Alice just pulled in.. garage door open.. then closed.  Leftovers for me.. the writer is hungry, and wondering when he will be on the Road..

After eating I’m ore composed and eased.  Progressing like a wildly raconteuring penner.  I see myself racking into a barrel, I see myself walking my vineyard, I see myself 4 weeks after bottling my Merlot taking a sip after a two-hour decant.  And smiling, pouring for guests at my house, my new ranch in West, West Healdsburg.  Find my self in a poetic stammer and splinter into tangent.  this is just the beat’s exhaustion, the paino in my head telling me to continue in poetry and some pulse rhythmic and recited, the music going on and tempting me to awake stay, no more wine just words, and the pages and recitals, more to my collection, adding content for me not some stale gangly ad agency.     

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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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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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Matured in Vintage (wine/vino/vin principles, code)

cup 1

cup 1

5:54AM and at keys, no not as early as I wanted but I’m here typing, thinking about taking on other clients and if I do that how my own writing will suffer.  But enough of that now, the story for the day outlined and submitted, to ME, and I approve wholeheartedly.  Coffee already accompanying my movements and the wine ideas still very much building and fermenting and catapulting themselves at my thinking down here in this Autumn Walk hut.  Jackie still asleep, and me pressured by the pressure I put on myself and the timeline with my daughter getting here in the Winter, or late Fall (guess that’d be late Fall, early December).  So the end to these means is me writing much more, teaching less (meaning no more Mendo or Solano), and building my business.  I’m never leaving the classroom, certainly not at SRJC anyway.  Have to get deeper– or rather ‘further’ into wine’s story.  And how?  Go out there and get what the consumer or even local wine-inspired figure wants: the visuals, the story, the moment-to-momentness of wine itself.  I’ll find that today in Napa’s downtown.  And one more thing I have decided…  I am starting my own label, I will be making wine, next year.  If I did this year it would only be a hobby that would stress me out and I wouldn’t be able to monitor the fruit and the fermentation as I should, be there at the crush pad with it as Glenn was when the SB arrived last week, at that “Punch Down” facility right down the road from here, actually.

I have it decreed in my Comp Book, and now here, for this semester and forever, that my goal is

cup 2

cup 2

to make my own wine; a humbly organized label, maybe 3,000 css, 5k maximum, and only over a couple types.  I don’t want to make as many different wines as some do.. or maybe I do, that way they all, ideally, sell out.

And this would be a secondary business.  Not a hobby but like what Glenn’s winery is to his larger more mammoth vineyard business.  And my site wouldn’t be a wine “education” site, just a general sharing and through that sharing people would become privy, or “educated” if you will, on wine and what happens behind the scenes and in the trenches as I used to do for that factory winery in Kenwood– entertaining and engaging, all pieces short and to the point, truly using brevity as our boon.

Definitely going to Napa today to acquire material, images, maybe a couple new wines.  but if I can’t taste why would I buy them?  Going to have price and ‘value’ be my aims.  And only a couple bottles.  Have to watch all spending…  Just checked accounts, made CC payment, and I’m equalized, “golden”, more than stable.  In fact, financially I’m doing quite well, with the college checks to roll in at next Month’s beginning.  Need to launch my site sooner than soon.  And I’m thinking have it be a WordPress site and not a Weebly-based one.  Again, to think about, but I’m quite settled on WordPress as it’s a blogging site and I’m very much a blogger, not a web designer.  But…..

Jack still not up and my first cup done.  So next, this writing dad… make cup 2, go up and gently wake my little Beat, and go from there.. don’t plan so much.  And, just a Self-note: max clients, 4.  Not a page of paper or word more.  FOUR, no more.

(8/25/15)

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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. 

IMG_4869

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.

IMG_8088

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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At Solano. 

The wind here is beyond impressive, and I’m so thankful that I was able to pull off a syllabus last minute.  All paperwork in order, for the most part.  Waiting on books, need parking pass, but other than that I’m a go, this 2nd day of the term.  Just sent some emails for mmc, posted to a client’s soc media acct, and I’m up, active, moving and alive with ambition, that same optimism of yesterday.  For day’s rest, I have planned speed work at gym, no more than 8 miles, if I even do that.  Then tonight, a piece for client 1 on a small producer.. or maybe another winery, also small, yes, but a little more well-known.  Then I want to go through some old pictures again, see if I can find some gems.

I of course failed at waking, 5AM call as I thought last night but Jackie and I were able to leave the house well before 8 this morrow.  And I sped over here and am still very much ahead of any schedule I idealized.  But then I think of how even further ahead I could have been had I risen at 5.  There’s always tomorrow, right?

The adjunct persists, having written three pages in the Comp Book yesterday and about to note a couple thoughts or observations here on this old-friend-campus of mine for day 2.  And my half-marathon, only 5 days away.  I’m at the weight I projected, now I just need one more run before Sunday, and I’ll be good for the 13.1.

With this surplus of time, I’ll breathe, meditate, write thoughts for the students.. questions and prompts and ideas for papers.. the books should be here soon so that’ll make it easy.

Checked bank acct, moved money around.  Not spending less I have to.  May need to start another blog for mmc, to exhibit samples and writings and other content.. but not going to move too quick on that, not just yet.

(3/18/15)

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

Heated Campus

First day of the semester, and my mood is fumbling for some reason, probably that first day of the semester feeling that any instructor feels.  Imagine the students, those students just out of high school, just stepping onto a college campus for the first day, first time in the spectrum of elevated learning.  So, me, here in this Yulupa Starbucks with my mood and my 4-shot mocha, and the Hutcherson station attempting to pull me from whatever pushes me down.  Just a couple sips from the mocha makes the writer feel much better, I have to say.. have to get my comp books across the street, have the syllabi copied, call Solano and Mendo, then I should be more above water.  And that’s what this mood is, not stress so much like I said being pushed, below waves.  So I write through it and keep with my mission on this day 1, the means to the end, and at the end a daughter and full avocational/vocational autonomy.  No more of any anchors.

Posted to client 1 blog, waiting ‘OK’ for client 2, posted to teaching blog and now the bx blog, and to campus to copy syllabi.  Don’t forget the Comp Books!  Time, 9:50.  Still over 3 hours till class.  Good.. need the surplus of time for my sanity.  My mood, off the ground, and me as well with my fast typing and excitement in seeing returning Summer students.  Wake tomorrow at 5AM… I did set my alarm for this morning but didn’t hear it.  I didn’t do that on purpose, have the volume so low that the dust microbes on the screen couldn’t hear it.  What happened doesn’t matter I have to keep moving and keep writing and planning for the classes.. call other campuses, reminder REMINDER.  Once this semester is over and M2’s here all will be more sound.. again, means to end, and that “end” is only the most beginning of beginnings.

Still waiting on text from client.. how many tons did we pull from that vineyard?  Hate waiting.. but he’s busy, I know.  Wait…..

He just responded.  Now I wait for photos to upload.  Seems like that has been quite the consistency in my life, of late.  Once I post this piece, I’m off to store for Comp Books, maybe a quick haircut right next door, then to campus.  Don’t forget to make those calls!

Done with blog work, now I leave, 10:23, 7 minutes ahead of what schedule I composed and set into motion for myself this morning.  Still have to send a memo to Sara, my PR friend from SF.. so much for the writer to do.. keep moving, keep with the coffee and water, nothing that slows the typing or teaching or posting, or anything about me.  My babies need their daddy to be quick, lightening with all his tasks and campaigns.

On campus.  Syllabi copied, books ready, notes taken.. just need to call other campuses, then I’ll be universally above water.  12:16.. should call now.  I’ll return to day’s writing later, after 3PM section.  And when home, celebrate the day’s end, but just for a bit.  More writing to do for this writer and more projects demanding contribution.  I don’t want to rest, or stop, I’m motivated by the end vision, me with only one glass to teach and writing full-time and traveling around different wine regions and conveying their story through my collections.  Other ideas swarm now to me but I have to ignore them, need to call campuses.. FINALLY.

First class done.  Giving self 9 minutes to collect on page before heading to rm 1610. This heat is repugnant to say the least.  No A/C on anywhere I feel so I go to the conference room here in Emeritus where there’s a fan circulating and the highest most violent of revolutions.  Bought myself another water.  No wine sounds appealing right now, I’ll disclose.  Only water, the purest and most empirical of substances.  I do find myself hungry but the hunger’s used for a disciplinary mechanism, to push me through this heat and into this water bottle and start the semester more animalistically than I have, ever.

Got an email from an instructor at one of the other schools.  She’s a mentor and she’s making herself available to me.  To ME!  I’ve taught at that school before, and for years during my stay, and have been a teacher for nearly ten years, but because I’m a returning adjunct I’m to be offered mentorship.  I don’t care how kind she offers herself or makes herself available in any one way or more, I’m insulted.  And I won’t be returning that email, please note.

Bought 5 Comp Books from the store, one for each class and one for a journal for the term.  To be neat prose scribbled throughout and at the end of each day.  Today, 1, and each day is to be counted, even days I don’t teach as I’m sure I’ll be grading or organizing or writing lectures.. and that’s what I need do more of this term– write my lectures out!  Have them be their own standalones– and now I feel the hunger digging into my mood and character but still driving me..

3 minutes to my own, my place in this conference room with this fan above me that’s doing little to bloody nothing.  Going to try and run tomorrow morning, but you know how that goes.. there, there’s my mood, what this heat does to the writer.  Want to splash some water on this face, breath a bit, then to 1610.  The story onward rolls…

Second class done.  Now need to organize and stay organized.  Go home and put stuff on floor so you can see it all.  Then go from there.. run in the morning, have to.  My feeling now is optimism, droves and pools and storms of it.  Have to keep this motion in motion and the only way to keep it motioned is to be positive.  All yay no nay.  And wake every morning at 5, if not to run then to write and grade and plan.. print your lectures, this semester.. in addition to the blog posts.  At the end of this semester, if I stay organized and appropriately inventoried, I should have at least two full collections of works.  But I’ll see.. I’ll do my best, and I started very much with my best with some in-class writing in my semester’s Comp Book with the 3PM 1A section.  I have to capsule this energy and consistency.  Was quite flatter when I saw how full the 3PM section was, so many students wanting to add.  That must mean I’m doing something right, or perhaps even quite well, as a teacher.  So I need to build on this, that, feelings like what I felt and tasted in 1610.

Now, home.  Think I will have a beer on the patio.  Celebrate this first day.  Watch little Kerouac play in the Autumn Walk horseshoe with the brigade of hyperness.  Now the conference room quiet, know I need to walk back out in the heat but I have no interest in doing so.  And I’m in the goddamn far lot, the one by the football field.  Back into this blaze.  Need a glass, a taller than tall glass of lusciously epic water.

(8/17/15)

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