2/22/12, Wednesday. Three locations. Four if you’d include the lunch spot, Bottega. Pride Mountain, with its views, caves, wines, and winemaker Sally, who happens to be a close friend of my family’s, delivers everything a wine lover’s idealistic delusions could encompass. Of course I loved the first pour, the Chardonnay. And the succeeding Viognier, probably one of my favorites of the day’s entirety. Walking around the property, I couldn’t stop my Self from fantasizing about writing up there, sipping some of that Syrah, or one of those Cabs. Or Viognier, if my dream day would have an unusually elevated temp as today’s. Loved the candles in the caves, atop the barrels.
The other two wineries, Quintessa and Rubicon, also multilayered sets stirring my sight. Another theme in today’s visits, as I’ve noticed in many past winery stops: separatism, Independence. All these owners had visions, forced them into fruition through enviously stubborn advance and cunning. Spoke to me as an artist, and to my pages soon to be thrown to the world, just as these winemakers’ bottles are to their sippers.
Being outside, not confined to some box, some office, forced me to breath, to again appreciate wine’s place in Artistry. Taste wine’s intended stage. Today showed me to shed dependence, to follow passion. Stop expecting other bodies to supply work, assignments, provide pay. I should just make my own. With my releases, my pages. My Art. Now, as Mom said, “It’s all or nothing.” Wine demands that of my writing–the complete leap, completely.
2/23/12. The day after, I’m beyond tired. Slept alright, I guess. Didn’t sip enough to be tilted from the the grapes’ spells. Looking through the pictures, I remind mySelf that I need more days like yesterday. Just exploring, learning of other approaches and embraces of wine. Recently read an article on “Adventure Writing,” made me think of what I’ve BEEN thinking, lately. Wine antagonizes me to be more audacious by the day. Today, even with my exhaustion, I tried new approaches to selling. And, to this inkman’s delight, it resulted fruitfully. Walking outside at shift’s end, I was welcomed to summer surroundings, over 70 degrees. Today, we saw 75. In February. Symbolic of? Surprise, I guess. What is it telling me to do? Same order I’m receiving from all other signs: Leap, already!
In living within everything wine-connected, then connecting that to my Writing, I need to change approaches, regularly. A winemaker with which I spoke recently, said “We need to keep it fresh, keep changing what we put out…no one wants to hear the same song.” When he said that, I knew he was speaking directly to me, without him knowing his words’ gravity. This morning, I thought about his dialogue, while scribbling fast in the Comp Book, sipping my two cups of black. Also thought about it yesterday driving up to, and especially at Pride. Should have bought some of Sally’s wines. No budget for such. Speaking of budgeting, something I’m just now learning how to do, and appreciate, today’s my 2nd straight with no mocha purchased from the hot cup pushers. So, today and yesterday, that’s 2 3-shot mochas at 4.80-something–let’s just say 5 a crack, makes $10. That should pay for 2 copies of the 1st chapbook release. Only saving for the books, as that’s what’ll propel me to where I need to be, to give Mr. Jack what he needs, deserves from Life.