Posts Tagged With: wine

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.


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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…


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..


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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.


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Working at a H-burg Starbucks..

stressed and frustrated..  But I’m refusing to fret.. about to go to client’s house for vineyard launch.  Need more content and material.. all the way around.. keep moving and don’t stop, and I will only relax when all squares have been filled..  Slowing my rush to acquire more clients.  Need to measure all steps.  Calming myself.. need to be sharp going into the vineyard.. Chalk Hill and AV, I think he said.. more of a social media focus to my little content shop..

Hate the music they’re playing here.. annoying and lachrymose.. ugh.. leaving.

10:06PM– time to work on website.. so why am I writing?  ‘Cause I’m a writer.  Have to wake early–

6:33AM, and I’m up but not by choice.  Jackie insisted it was time to be up even thought he shared his observation of it being “nighttime ou’side”.  So now I’m downstairs with him, watching him play with his cars, the new little tracker and marbles I bought him yesterday at the Montgomery Village toystore.  Other news: the officialness of this third client.  Have to get started immediately.  And no more marketing my services, at least not as wholly as I’ve been.  People will now come to me,  I feel.

Time is becoming evermore an issue with me and my practices; teaching and writing, the couple days I still have at the winery (which I’m hoping turns into a writing assignment or, and, or and/or mmc client).  I will say, the days during the week are challenging, and they’ll continue to be as more and more assignments pile for me to grade.  So I have to wake early all mornings and days, work hard like I never have one day of only writing and grading.  Will tell my friends at the winery such today.  My instinct is to keep piling on work, but I know that won’t do a thing but harm me.  even now, I don’t have the time I used to to write for myself.  The poetry project for example: how long have I been saying I’ll gather around 40 pages of poetry or thereabouts and print them, sell them?  For a while, and I haven’t from how much I’m working.. so a readjustment is needed.  Or at least a pause, halt in my acceptance of new clients.  If I stretch myself too much more into thinness, the quality of everything will erode; teaching, writing, business, husband and father, runner…

Have a couple ideas for writing, for a client, but I sit on them for now.. will type them up later today, after work here at home.  How do I get a run in?  Mind in every direction, so many directions splitting then splitting again becoming tangents and tangents of tangents.  So, then I attach everything.. posting articles to client blogs then jumping over to my writing, then grade a stack of papers and write a lecture or two, post to teaching blog, then get in a run, go home to family, play, eat, sleep.  Wake at 5, work and don’t stop.  Won’t let this semester defeat me.  When M2 gets here, I’ll be atop my world and all the worlds around me.

I’ll admit, I can’t quite remember what I did to my “website” last night, as the Chardonnay from my client’s winery was very much at work.  But I’ll look at that as well, later.  Have to go through my pictures, see which ones I can use–

Writing the piece for client, before I forget it.. one piece, a spotlight, the other an opinion..

I continue to wake, gradually, while Jackie says to me, “Daddy, I show you…”, new ways to arrange the marbles and the toys and the toys around the marbles then the marbles around toys paired with marbles.  His tireless nature and commitment to his morning fun is enviable, and frustrating as I fear I’ve lost that getting older, now 36.  Counting…


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I wake this

morning to thoughts of a new client, the meetings I have today and how Jack is–  OR was asleep.  Now downstairs with me and me on cup 2 with more thoughts, thoughts of where I want to be, the end.. to these means, around the time when Emma’s born.  Again not the decided name but at least for now a working name, one which I adore frankly.  Today walking a vineyard with Glenn I’m sure, but before that, between our meeting and that with his daughter Chelsea I’m thinking of writing again in downtown Healdsburg.. somewhere.  Perhaps again Oakville Grocery.  Or the bakery.  Just need to collect seriously these standalone pieces, that’s what I’ll sell.  But I’ve said that before, before again again and one more again.

Hot in this house, or at least it feels so.  I came home yesterday, or last night from Mendo to the air conditioning growling at the heated innards of this new house.  Relief, I thought, opened a beer, had dinner, the day done.  A long day, my Thursdays this semester, but that’s what I signed for, only once a week thankfully.  I have a list of dimensions to shed by term’s end, and Mendo and Solano are at the top of such a roster.  Not much else on mind other than the accumulation of clutter so far this term, already, only week two with notes and the Comp Books, submissions already filling my bag, receipts from all the stops at gas stations and breaks at Starbucks like yesterday when I posted at 12 & Mission just for a handful of breaths to post something to client 1’s blog.  More content for someone else.. just for now, though.  This startup idea I have will relieve me of this morning’s angst, and I will work on that when at Yulupa this morning, and Healdsburg later.

Looking over at Jackie, not at all ignoring my little Beat, he’s content with his waffle sticks, watching a cartoon and playing with his cars.  No angst for this character.  And at the end to this Fall I’m vowing to be more of his literary shape.  But just then, he gets moody, upset with me when I ask him to take another bite, or I’ll turn off the show.  He moans and stretches backward over the carpeted toy box, and looks at me, perturbed.  Just part of the morning progression and panning, tilting, camera angles on our own little set and stage, the writing father and little Beat.

Another episode of Jackie’s show, his mood elevated and emboldened by this new episode and how I went to him as soon as I sensed distress or dissatisfaction, however you’d tag it.  7:09AM, and the day already commands me to clean up.  Everything from this laptop, to the desk, to the writing projects, to how I keep track of progresses with clients, my checkbook ledger… everything.  But I calm, charge my camera for transferring pictures, the hard drive Alma gave me, and ready for departure to Jackie’s school then my Yulupa office.  Wonder if that one woman will be there, the one who became agitated when she, walking slower than anyone should after walking through the door (not holding it open for me, or offering), headed buried in her phone typing or texting or strolling through some social media feed.  I walked past her as she was taking up the entire walkway with her sizable size, and I was in a rush.  I heard her groan or grunt, then when catching up to me in line she said, or felt she had to, “That was really rude.”

“Whatever,” I said.

“You know what you did,” she added, or felt she had to.

I could have destroyed her in an argument, but it wasn’t worth the writer’s time.

What’s worth this writer’s time are my students, all campuses.. my son.. my queenly wife carrying little Emma and being so empyrean to get her typing frantically scribbled husband a pizza for dinner, only from our favorite hut in our old neighborhood.

Not in the mood to stop with my types in fact the caffeine depends on the types just as I what’s in the cup.  Would love to taste some new wines today, possibly on the square, before my meeting with Glenn.  Maybe from Hawley, Chelsea’s husband’s label, for which he’s the winemaker and production proctor.  I will, and maybe one other, then to Oakville.  In no way is today a day off but I’ll pretend it is, or do I want to– no, just one like what I’ll have at the end of term; me a s a writer and that’s it just living by and through my words.  My standalone projects, MY CONTENT, my brand if you would.  MY deadlines and my office, my urgencies and MY DECISIONS.

Nearing a thousand words and the coffee showing more vocality than in recent days, I’ve decided to in my little black journal for mikemadigancrEATive make a list of sheds, what I want to be rid of come end of term.  And the first thing: worry.  Any anxiety, any pessimism or doubt, be it toward self or one of my projects.  Terminal optimism, as I told the Mendo section last night, will be my practice–  I’m interrupted by my own laughs as Jackie dances to his cartoon’s introductory song, “Daddy, Daddy, you go’ do this.. I show you…” Hilarious.  And I can’t stop laughing, and join him, then when the song’s over I’m back in my morning thousand and thinking about my “day off”, if that’s what it is.  NO!  A sampling, or taste of what the means’ end.  Just a write, nothing else.  One loving wine and– huh, ‘nother idea for the startup.

Fly buzzing around my eyes, interferring with keys contact.. damnit.. annoying.

Healdsburg rooms targeted.  Know where I’m going and what I’m doing.. charge camera, pack bag.. readying.. the wine startup, closer than we all think.  Another sip, more more write write–

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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.


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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.


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.


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.


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.


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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.


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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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Vineyard Walk

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