This’ll be the only prose entry for the night. In fact, I’m not letting my Self post past this. All rhymes, lines into Comp Book. That’s what real Literary figures do. That’s what I urged my students do, and what I will, should I return to classRoom. Not much to record from tasting Room, today. One big group, 30+, at day’s beginning. That’s it. However, I do find mySelf liking Chardonnay more. Kunde Estate’s shown me that it can be done with an impressive artful progression; a certain oenological refinement about its sip sequence. Tonight, I’m MAKING mySelf take winemaking notes. Bringing one text with me when I sit, yes, but I’m also going to jot any idea or fantasy that pops into this writer’s inner racking.
Distracted by little Kerouac’s calls. He’s tired, and I can relate. Going back to the ’11 Reserve Chard, tonight. I’m expecting it to be even more musical than it was last night. I can already taste my Chardonnay from the barrel. It’s a fairytale interpretation of the varietal–not too oaky, nor tinny, metallic. It’s dignified Burgundy voice.
11pm. Tired. Needing to just freewrite in my Comp Book. I’l be honest, I’m getting sick of this laptop, its devilish keys. And the social media element, wherever it lurks, anything but Literary. Stopped sips a couple minutes ago. Back on the berry sparkling, needing concentration. project R, prominently on radar over my next 2 off days. Staying focused on what project R embodies, what it could do for me, Little Jackie. Another item on my aims list, get back into running. On a level fervent [much I hate the word]. Did a couple sprints today at work, back forth from cave to tasting Room, to get pour buckets. Felt amazing, but it was lived short. So, in my mind, it’s not “running” at all. And on note random: not at all pleased with the way AV Winery was portrayed, incorporated, represented in that “reality.” Frankly, I found it dehumanizing, disgusting, and altogether deplorable. The Wine World, especially AV, deserves better than those media carnivore drones. And with that, I’m done. BRAVO, not worthy of my prose; certainly not even the most minuscule poetry pour. vinoLit4LIFE …