Grounded, Transglobally

Think I’m settling into a writer’s routine, in terms of order; what comes first.  Verse, paragraphs, blog, what be.  In glass, sipping a ’10 Meritage.  This is actually my first Bordeaux blend from that vintage.  MY thoughts, if they at all matter, colorfully impressed.  Love how the mid-palate refuses to give to finish.  The body just stays there, stubbornly, seductively.  Today at winery, a bit moderated with pace.  Did one mountaintop tour, then a couple pourings in main room.  Managed to taste through some of the current releases, one hooking into my attention, reflection, that ’11 single-vineyard SB.  Had me thinking of vacations.. Hawaii, Florida, So Cal, South America.

Think I enjoy this part of my routine most.  Why?  I’m permitted to truly write freely.  Why is this TV on “reality,” again?  Why is it even on?  I’m writing.. need to focus on the WRITE itself.  Turning it off, to see what happens.  Would rather listen to music, anyway–  Much better.  Can only think of how I was so upset I forgot my ipod on Paris trip, ’09.  This technology, so disruptive, with its ubiquitous nature.  And as I’ve always said, look at me NOW, typing on this devilish laptop.  Next step in routine, newJournal.  Wrote quite a bit last night.  All verse.  The anti-formalist gist.  IF this were a hotel Room, and I were on Road, I’d continue with this ’10 blend, only be pen-to-sheet.. pave my own street.

Have to finish some grading tomorrow, well as plan my sessions.  Want to write my letters to each class, have that be my “lesson plan.” Want it concise, so I don’t have to talk as much.  Would rather write, understandably. Character from today, the arrogant/ignorant, winery owner from Canada.. not sure what the connection is, but– WAIT, yes I do: instead of venting about what an idiot this vocal splasher was, I told Self, “Just write about him.”  And I will, soon.  He’s in this little notebook, for near disseminations.  This song, putting me at some beach bar, Mediterranean.

Think I’ll put another chapter in this strangely large glass.  Is this a jurassic Bordeaux type?  Some regal Rhône?  It’s voluptuous, beautifully buxomly boastful, in any consideration.  The cork, still away from neck.  So the wine’s had even more opportunity to vent, stretch, Self-etch.  Would love for my blend to turn out with this luminosity level.  And it probably will, with my winemaker ally at side.  Should be studying, by the way.  Why do you let me write, so freely like this, READER?  Can’t blame you.  I’ll look up 1 fact tonight.  Really want to understand better the oak element.  And, working with lees.  Want to not be afraid of them like some winemakers are.  “Get it off the lees,” I’ve heard too many of them say.  Then my sister, the other night, saying “I LOVE my lees!”

Last glass, night’s finally capped.  Need sleep.  Tomorrow, watching Little Kerouac while Alice teaches down street.  This song, too, also on Thievery Corporation channel [Pandora], putting me in traveling visions.  Repetitively healthy, has to be.  As it’s ALL in honesty.

To bed in 20 minutes, closed.