Posts Tagged With: Freewriting

MOCK SOMM: Taft Street Winery, Alexander Valley, Merlot, 2012

IMG_8603Usually I wait till the next day to write a reaction to a wine that catches me, but this one I have to write in the moment.  Never heard of this producer before but found it at a local wine shop and since my penchant for Merlot is always a-bubble, I bought it.  Opened it just before dinner letting it breathe for not that long.  I was looking for candor, true truth of Merlot and that’s what I found, a certain whirling and whimsical honesty in the wine and what it noted for my senses.  Purest texture and potent palate, from front to summation with darker fruit that you may expect, but maybe that’s the Alexander Valley talon landing.  Either way I’m smitten and swayed by its sequencing.  The type of Merlot that has me remembering travel and a more imaginative me.  And this Merlot does offer what I look for– unique varietal translation and a certain stubborn echo at sip’s close (what most would simplify and dumb to “finish”).

Everyone who knows me knows I want to get back to making wine, and Merlot is the varietal that coerced me to wine’s curve, and I’ve never backward stepped. So I dance forward and jig with this bottle’s janiform song.  Its complimentary duplicity in form and and palate is precisely what punctuates its uniqueness.  I’ll go back to that store, obviously, and walk with a few more bottles.  I measure with the structure of the nose and mid of this Merlot crafting it’ll go at least 7 years.  But there’s no possibility of any wine with this tier of strenuous orchestration lasting so long in my writing base.  So I pour myself another glass and don’t overthink it, and see what new chords the wine wants to play for me.

MM 92

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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.


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No On Campus

And working feverishly.  But even with my fever I couldn’t, can’t, and won’t finish grading.  But my lecture’s all written up.  On blog.  Going to bookstore to get something for papers, keep them in one secured, enclosed and encased space.  Long time till the semester ends, but I can’t focus on Time in anyway just have to keep writing and consolidating, no more taking on new projects.  Have room for only one more in mikemadigancrEATive, as the Grape Growers set up my first meeting with a grower, over which I’m beyond ecstatic.  The one thing, and as I can see it the ONLY element or task that will slow me is grading.  God. Damn. GRADING.  But no more.  I’ll grade tonight and tomorrow and everyday even when there’s no grading to be done.. teaching will take priority as I’ll be writing in my Comp Book, this semester a novel or collection of small standalone moments..11:52 and I’m in need of more coffee, and a writing session in the Library, or maybe here where I listen to the full-timers grieve and moan and cite what their students do in class to throw them off.  Well, I ask, or would ask, “if it’s working shouldn’t you change your instructional direction?”

Have to get to the bookstore, then drop something off at car in C Lot, then to get coffee and a little writing.. may write in the Maggini Room.  No.. I will.  “May”… huh.


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Souled on in about for Wine


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. 



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.


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..


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).


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.


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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.


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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Writing freely

for the next few minutes or so, Yulupa SBUX.  About to upload something to client’s blog, thenIMG_7875 off to RRV.  Picking up one more class for Fall, and that makes 4, and there I stop.  May have one more client as well, feeling rather positive about this particular prospect, but we’ll see.  I’m not letting a single thing or moment or person stress me today.  I’m moving slower as Dad advised, and not letting myself move so quick.  Need to get in a run either tonight or tomorrow.  Thinking tonight, but I’m not sure.  Let’s see what the story suggests and not think about it so much, so excessively and obsessively.  Would love to have the entire day to write and plan my semester, but.. what.. what am I thinking, what is this writer going to lever next, leverage with my own priorities and businesses– oh!  While here I need to finally type one of those poems for the collection, for ‘Mike Madigan, Author’, as I have it “in the cards” (an mmc office expression).  When my daughter arrives, her father will be busy and writing and successful in something he in motion set.

9:02, should get ready for early departure, go across the street to the drug store and get some comp books for my classes, keep everything separate and organized, and remember “less is better”.  Indeed.

Can’t rush-type these poems I have in the yellow spiral book.  I’ll start a new one here, or maybe type some short ones for the collection, showing readers that I’m always here at the keys with words and observations and critiques of the pattern, the expected, the conforming urge of people today, to post and “follow”– hate that word more than I have time to express.  I write with my babies in mind, how they’ll read me when in college or when able to read this type of prose and shape some individualized conception of it, and of me, their reading style.

Computer moving slow and I’m not caring, feels lovely really.. and flying an aloft flight that I haven’t before.  Can’t wait to taste the wines today with my new Zen sense, not caring and just being a consumer, one writing and teaching 4 classes and with his own business.  Yes, the cards.. where are my business cards?  I’ll order them tonight, promised.

Photo uploaded, now I can post to client blog.  Large man standing in front of me eating a breakfast sandwich, taking a bite then walking back to counter.  I’ve seen him here before, with obvious attitude and entitles disposition.  He sits next to me with two coffee drinks and his sandwich, ‘nother bit, then a woman sits with him, she on her phone talking still and he clears space for her on table, she still talking and he’s bothered so another bite.

And me, I’m just coffined in my Zen, loving all the moments and chords in the song playing into my ears, onto the sensory drums.  Today will be lovely.  Today will gift me peace, compassion, more love than I know how to handle.  And I’ll keep writing.




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Back In Class

IMG_1003And I have to applaud myself for working/writing myself out of a mood which was generated by my email getting hacked, some dimwit sending out a letter saying I was in fucking Turkey.. and needed money.  That, and I have grading for Summer to do, then planning for Fall, then the pick tonight at Old Camp.  But I calm, as it’ll all get done, I know.  I have managed to clear my desk a bit– oh, just remembered I need to charge my cameras, phone.. everything before the launch tonight.  No run today, as I have written on my calendar.  Thought about taking a nap, and that probably would help but I wouldn’t be working– have to stay working and writing.  Have notes typed up for meeting with Chelsea tomorrow.. need to designate notebooks for classes, and don’t EVER overlap.  Simple, simplified.. less is better.

Alice to bring home lunch in a bit.. not much more I can due right now but rightly write freely here at the desk, in the home study.  I now truly embrace the idea of “nothing new”.  No new projects, no new directions, no new anything– well, new clients I’ll take, but with a keen eye, careful and not at all with whim.


While at Costco with Alice this morning, I motioned to look at my phone and she told me not to, “Be free for a minute,” she said, then seconds later disclosing how she intentionally left hers at home, again emphasizing freedom.  And she’s right.  Why should this email hack bother me at all?  AT. ALL.?  Kerouac didn’t have email.. a phone.. neither did Hem, Plath.. I know I’m in the blogging arena, and that comes with emails and social media, and this goddamn laptop.  But I don’t have to be chained.  In my little black book of ideas for mikemadigancrEATive I jot: “plan for tomorrow”, “less is better”, and “nothing new less you have to”.

Enjoying some music here in the study.. go plug in battery/charger for camera.. done.  Mind IMG_1008swirling and I’m having trouble stopping it, which I suppose is a benefit, a boon for me as a business owner, right?  Thinking the content tonight should be 50/50, video and still, but I’ll see.  I have to feel the scene and see what the story tells me to do.  Words come first.  I’ll bring my little notebook but I doubt I’ll be able to see anything out there, in the dead of night/earliest of mornings.

IMG_10097:24PM.  And after the most fierce battle with tech that I’ve found myself engaged in, in months, if not a year (calling what I thought was an IT number but was only a scammer.. luckily I hung up and disconnected internet connectivity), I’m back at the laptop with renewed appreciation, and total embrace of the simple approach to writing, my business, life.  Alice had it right this morning, put the phone down.  It’s down now, believe me, and with under 5 hours, actually just over 4 hours till departure for the vineyard, I’m in the mind state and frame I need.  And to add to today’s attack on the writer, the SF prospect passed, stating her editor didn’t like my revisions.  Of the original sample I sent.  And honestly, I’m fine with it.  She very much tried to help me, which I appreciate.  And who knows what her editor wants.  I don’t care what any editor wants if you must know– well you already do.  I’m focusing on the wine, the winemaking, the vineyards, wine writing, me, my family, building this business so my babies will have the option to share one day the office with me.


Jackie home from swimming lessons, which I took him to, Alice staying home and resting which she needs, carrying little M.  While watching him, in the water, me not looking at my phone and seeing so many parents looking at their screens completely ignoring the processes of their IMG_1013children in the pool.  The instructors were far more attentive that those parents.  But not me.  I watched everything little Kerouac did in the water, sitting on Ms. Ashley’s lap and letting her take his arms to make the stroking movements.  My phone now still in pocket.  There it stays.  And the email that was hacked, letting it die.  Never using it again.  Now only my vinolit address used for business.  And to everyone who tries to contact me through the old address.. well…..  If the story wants us to stay connected we will be.  I’m moving on and distancing myself from this technological terrorism and dependency.  I’m going to continue to be the odd one who doesn’t look at his goddamn phone every five seconds.  I’m going to always be the lunatic watching his son swim in the pool, or the view of the vines or how the tree moves with gusts.  I’m an artist, not a device dependent drone.  I’m alive, they’re not.  They’re less than alive.  They’re devices themselves, with vices about their movements and interactions.  Not this writer.  At present, this laptop not connected to the internet, and I love the detachment!  I love the art of my movements and my breathing, the way I push the keys even feels better, much more richness in the sounds.

IMG_1015Going through the camera I see so many images that I haven’t used, and the video camera I haven’t used has material as well.  And no connection to the internet for these tech pieces, so no chance of getting hacked.  Yes, I know, but still tech.  A compromise you could say.  In the vineyard I’ll go from camera to camera, and if I can write notes, single words not burdening myself with full sentences or any kind of proper grammar as these editors want.

Funny the email said I was in Turkey, as I’d love to go to Turkey, have always wanted to go there and write about the streets and all the merchants, the customs and scents and buildings, wherever I could go.  And the danger that people speak of and warn Americans against, what fuel for the writing. For THIS writer, dodging and hiding from whomever…  I need travel, and this hacking event today, if you could even deem it an “event”, only made Mike more resolute.. nearer to book’s completion, my travels, and more enhancement of life quality for my family.


Still quite a bit of clutter and paper piles around me.. evidence of the battle and how it diversely crushed my day’s routine.  Maybe I won’t go to bed when I get back here at 2-whatever.  Maybe I’ll come to this swiveling chair, to my pages, to this new me for which I have today to credit.


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Products, Production, Productivity, Produced

IMG_7683Haven’t felt this productive and accomplished in some time.  Writings for clients, done and posted.  My check book, BALANCED.  Bills, paid.  I’m feeling very much even this afternoon and now I reward myself with some freeness in writing time.  Just remembered I have two more checks to write but no matter, I can very much handle it.  Have to return to my 3 pages a day, and I will, soon as my schedule in me settles.  Still have to grade Summer papers and prep for Fall, as well as gather the collected poems I put together.  Yes, a lot on the writer’s plate, but that’s how he wants it.  And now, here in this quiet house I very much have to take advantage of my moment at this desk in the Autumn Walk study.  Planner on left, mapping out the morrow.. going out with Glenn tomorrow night at midnight and picking the Old Camp Vineyard at midnight till 2.  Can’t even gather how excited I am about this dark pick, haven’t done such since 2012 when at that other place.  But this will be all the more resplendent and memorable, 1, as it’s Pinot Noir, and, 2, with a man I greatly respect.  Didn’t spend that much time with Glenn IMG_7696today but just in the short time we walked the Old Camp lots and had coffee and the place.. what’s it called….. Blue Beagle in North-North Santa Rosa, I ingested more knowledge of the harvest and this vintage and what it’s like to be one fully living as a self-employed and sustaining wine business figure.

3PM exactly, Alice scheduled to meet me here at 4 to leave and get little Kerouac before his swim lessons.  So much to organize.. already scribbling items on the calendar for morrow, not putting on this goddamn laptop’s datebook as I don’t trust this app or laptop as far as I wish I could throw it.  Busy, busy.. self-employed, love it..  had the chance to visit and old friend, Sophie, at her new base at a RRV winery on Olivette Road.  Bought one Pinot.  Can I write that off?  Poems, don’t forget to type those poems, especially those three you wrote the last days of class– see?  I’m mad with how IMG_7700busy I am, but again I love it more than I can here convey.  So full of vision and life and in no time I’ll be on the Road, traveling and writing and bringing stories and presents home for my babies.  And wife.  Just as Mom and Dad used to when they flew for the airline.

What else can I get done in this efficiency spree?  Sent a sample and a revision to a prospect, and this one seems to be testing me, but I could be wrong.  I should here today whether or not I’ll be let on to her project.  Hope she contacts me soon, as there’s little space left on my calendar.  And in the end, really, I’m the one making the call.  Empowered writer, writing books, running a business, and his blog, and running (11.1 miles yesterday I think was the final count), teaching 3 classes, and .. what else?  Sure there’s something else in their, in here, in this room with and somewhere on this desk in or atop or under one of the piles.


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8/8/15 morning

Going to post my wined-rant against the university and colleges later for not giving me that class but anyway I’m up, not like I was yesterday pounding out three full pages before 5-whatever AM, but I’m up and watching my son play while I finish a piece for client 1.  My mood is volatile and I need to be writing more, waking early and earlier with more frequency and drinking coffee right now.. in fact, I’ll make some of that putrid packaged stuff Alma made me, ignore how uncomfortable the energy is from it.  So into the coffee I go and I aim to leave work early to work on mmc, more heartily.. and that I need do as well.  I feel scattered this morning.  Cluttered and scattered.  And I don’t like it at all.. the only cure is writing, and marketing my business, and taking on as many clients as I can.. getting all my hours devoted to writing and writing for clients, getting more into their stories..  Need to post to client 2’s blog!  So much to do, just be organized, be methodical.. no wine tonight, stay focused.. yesterday a bit of a doozy as I started tasting in the morning meeting then throughout the day with at the food & wine experience (which I could write about for days, watching Chef Tim cook), the the Mendo Ridge I took home from work.  Not aim on satisfying the state of drunkenness, or even getting technically drunk, just impacted by the wine, which slows the writer and minces my concentration which I hate and can’t afford with my daughter only 19 weeks out, perhaps less..

Angrier than angry with my alma-mater, but I have to let it go, never count on these schools or anything in education to support my family.. the writing and the wine world and the handle I establish with and on it will provide my family’s elevated quality of life.  So now.. coffee.. more thoughts on the day and me leaving early to go to downtown Healdsburg, where I’ll probably stop by client 2’s tasting room, do a little writing in the back or something.. something.. I should never say that but know exactly what it is I want to write.  Always.

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In the cell, and I sip Coke, not my usual coffee.  Didn’t want those jitters and the tremors I usually find with the cup.  And, to not at all my surprise, no word from SSU, even after two emails saying how much I’d love to come back and teach.  This is a game they play with the adjunct, I know it.  But I’m letting go and forgetting about it, looking to this new semester and all promised by it.  Just did a bit of work for a client now I focus on the last regular session of this Summer “semester”.  Workshopping rough drafts tonight, and doing a little writing.. not sure what else.. maybe a group activity, like the ‘create a character’ bit I do.  That always comes out quite interesting, I think.

Went to Mendocino today to order books and get my respective processes in motion.  I feel now like I have nothing to write and nothing to think, and absolutely nothing to offer this page.  Have more writing to do when home tonight for client 1, then to bed.  Hoping to get a run in, for morning, before meeting with client 2.  Then tomorrow night the Summer semester ends.. have to lock myself in the study tonight, just write and gather myself, organize before this busy impending term.. and collect writings as I’ve been meaning to, the adjunct has to always be more together, more cogent and fluent in his duties as he’s more mobile, more pulled and scattered between campuses than the full-timer.  The adjunct has a challenge that the full-timer can’t appreciate, really at all, as there’s no real connection for the adjunct other than to himself, to his practice and his teaching.  That’s all he has.  He’d love to be on some committee, but he hasn’t the time.  He works another job, two if you want to be honestly honest, aside from the classroom hours.  So he can’t “volunteer” as he’s so urged, as he’s told he has to if he ever wants to be full-time.  He has a family, so what is he supposed to do?  Easy:  MAKE IT HIS OWN.  Own the moments he has and all the talents at his disposal and fire away, keep going and use his life as material as so many of the authors he admires did, still do..

Her in the office thinking of the remaining hours in day, the Chardonnay I put in the fridge before leaving the house, and how it felt warmer outside that I remembered it being when I came back from the car wash, after returning from that long Mendo drive.  The Road, again with me, this semester two days a week, like in Fall ’14–

Reconnection with sitting after retrieving sparkling water from fridge in mailroom.  Don’t want to be interrupted, but I feel’s though I might be in a minute by that adjunct from the other day.  I don’t know what I’m feeling now in this goddamn office but I don’t like it, I should just leave, go home, email the students and be done with the Summer.  And what would that do.  Nothing.  That’s surrender.  The trials and pains of an adjunct supersede him even if he’s under some empowering impression.  Does he have control?  And if so what does it get him?  The adjunct role is about insecurity.. that’s just what they want, and they win for this moment, that’s what I feel but I recognize it and battle with this typed beat of mine, and thinking about the Road, all the forests in which I’ll write, some random bench on a trail, and wherever else.  While on the Mendo campus I had the urge to write in the Comp Book, in that little quad outside the library’s building, in between that an the bookstore’s building, where they have that cafeteria with the most horrendous bites and mochas you could ever hope or not hope to envision.  My plan for tonight, simple:  Edit.  Edit everything.  Perfect.  Perfect everything.  And as I mentioned the other night, the “feel” of the paper.  How do you feel about it, and how do you want your reader to feel.  And I realize I should be asking myself those very questions with everything I write, type.

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