5/13.  More incredibly interesting guests today.  Some, from France.  Bordeaux.  In the library, we engaged in a deconstruction of the idea of a Utopia, or one having their own Utopia, after I called the ’08 Cab my “Utopian Cabernet.” As one of the characters was a Literature major, pursuer, like I.  Home now, 7:20pm.  Do have a new Cab for tonight’s tasting, as I’d aimed.  But first, need dinner.  Leftovers from last night’s Roberto’s visit.  But first before I forget, weather today: cooler, slight drizzle in A.M.  Clouds cleared, a bit, and now [7:24pm], cooler, fog.  Unique this morning, when in XA’s cabin, scribbling verse in Comp Book.

I’ll bring the laptop monster downstairs, with a writing movie.  Tomorrow, oddly, I have off, because of a rearrangement in the schedule to accommodate Taste of Alexander Valley, having me work Thurs & Friday (1:30p-10, I believe).  But, I’m going in tomorrow to take care of ends, odds.  Tonight’s the priority.  These pages.  The projects, logs, wine…

Just finished salad.  Too idea-eager to eat the spaghetti calamari that just finished heating.  Tonight’s wine, Cab.  Not specifying vintage, AVA, producer, or anything more.  It’s not important.  What I’m appreciating is the Cabernet Character on palate.  But before I do, wanted to unfold the progress of this morning’s 128 session:  1-page poem, a 20-line verse, 8 lines to finish verse from earlier in month, atop a 1.5-pg journal entry.  All thanks to mocha; Those 3 shots..  Was in a defiant mood with this AM’s sitting, after being exposed to sarcastic remarks on Art, Artistry, those in Creative habits, recently, from one totally bland in all thinking, existence.  Won’t wastes lines on the drones offering such tinny thoughts, but I will state: They can’t do what We do, that’s why they criticize what We do; They’ll never hold capacity to think as We think, as they feel safe in a safe mentality; We take risks in our works, they’re far too timid, secure in their acceptable routine to leap, that’s why they resent Our flight; These devils will always lob insult over the wall that separates us, because there is no ‘us’; That’s all they can do, is not do.  Atop this assault, I want to respect the writer I yesterday met, her passion for words, her upcoming exodus to a writer’s retreat, or conference (sorry, can’t remember) to Oregon.  Respecting her, using her board position for my momentary amelioration.

Time to taste Cabernet, I guess.  Honestly, I just want to write.  And tomorrow, morning… waking earlier than I did today.  Getting my work done at AV Winery, before 10a, hoped.  Then, writing till I hate the act of writing.  But not before I edit, delineate/separate standalone pieces.

8:33pm.  I’ll concede a falsehood, or a misleading omission…  Well, if something was omitted, how could it be misleading?  Returning to topic, I have 3 Cabs to 2nite taste.  And number 1, richly floral; a daring character, eager to confront even the most particular of palates.  This one makes me want to break into the facility, visit my wine.  and I’m not aiming, aspiring to title of “winemaker.” I just want to make wine.  As a writer; scribe through terroir; I want the EXPERIENCE, for the WRITING.  And this pour motives my whimsicality; It shapes my character.  When did I start using semicolons so much?  Remember how I used to slander them, aloud, to my students.  I’m a contradictory pattern bend, blend.  Confusing Self…