3:10pm. With little Jack in nest, I can rest. On these keys, yes. I know I said I’d take a break from this drug of a device, but I thought it needed, to type.. Everything I uploaded from phone, now safe in this doc. Well, kind of safe, I guess. Up early tomorrow morning, having to be in vineyard for Chardonnay picking at 6:30am. Today, for “internship,” I walked several blocks on the estate with winemaker and oenologist. Can’t even recall everything I picked up from these two bottle brilliants. But it’s in my winemaking Comp Book. We tasted so many types, directly from vine.. Chardonnay, Sauv Blanc was first.. Alicante, Muscat Canelli, Malbec, old vine Syrah.. taught me to have more faith in my palate. That’s what they both instilled in the writer. The writing I did last night, in the Comp Book, to be put into a chapbook. I am going forward with those projects. I know, “Well, when then, Mikey?” Soon, I promise. I know I’ve been saying it for some time, but beautifully sooner than what I’d consider “soon.” Watched a show last night where an “artist” was making quite the amount with his “creativity.” I just remember thinking, “if he can do it, I should have done so years ago.” Now’s my time, with all this material around me.. And the blogging, I have to say, even from phone [the immediacy of it], HAS helped.
In the mood for coffee, suddenly. No mocha, today. Didn’t have time. Went to dentist from vineyard. Found out I have a cavity. I am a bit surprised, I have to say, but then not surprised at all. Boring topic, so next… Opening something else tonight. But what? Something to analyze for sake of notes I like. Doesn’t have to be one of the varietals on the whoso menu. How about the red I bought I Ty Caton’s? Or one of those ’09 Cuvées from Lancaster. The Malbec from St. Francis? Not sure. Just know I want to sip some wine, and dissect every characteristic I notice, then dissect the notes I get from deconstruction in the first round.
Last night’s lecture, progressed even better than the 1st. And the lecture’s content, completely hand-written. Forgot to print what I typed prior. And I’m glad I did. And, one of the pieces I assigned, class previous, dealing with one’s addiction to a laptop. Especially relevant, I realized listening to student reactions. For the first time in this writer’s life, all’s self-situating into this melodic malaise. Encouragement, like I’ve never known, from what intangibles around my books of notes float. Finally, the composition targets me, congenially.
Speaking of THE Comp Book, where is it? Oh, never mind, it’s still in work bag. Would love to clean off this desk at some point this evening. Tomorrow, also, back in tasting Room, I think. Or am I on the mountain? Doesn’t matter, there’s paragraphs everywhere.. Need to get some grading in tonight and tomorrow, as well. Quite the busy writer, Mike Madigan. Why the thought stream, the dirtiness, rawness of it all, favors my moments. Just heard a noise from Kerouac’s Room. May have been a sneeze, or unconscious cough. Should I go check? Afraid this swivel chair, that was once Dad’s, will make its low, aged squawking groan as I rise.
10:14pm. Sipping an ’09 OVZ [old vine Zin]. I have no intentions of producing a Zin, ever, so I enjoy this as a total, consummate consumer. Like how it defies the copiously fruity stereotype of Zinfandel.. the one I hold. Nice floral aromatic net at senses, precise mid-palate, wild berry-centered finish. Enlightening, for Zin-phobes like I. Off to scribble in Comp Book, for 2nd chapbook. Chap1, still to be edited. Again, I conjure the correlation of a winemaker sending a wine to bottle and a writer sending a project to print. “No going back,” as I recently heard a winemaker say. Maybe that’s what’s been holding this writer still.