New writing rule: unique detail in every sentence. And if not, then every paragraph. Currently, on couch, watching Sandya Patel’s weather report, in workout pants, still on from walk Alice invited me to. -11:21pm.
There was a memory I wanted to log, but I forgot it. Hate when that happens. Think it may have had something to do with Dry Creek Winery, that devil that hired me only so she could let me go. So glad she did. $12/hour. For someone with my qualifications. Have to laugh it off, especially when one of their most genius ideas was making free goldfish available in their tasting Room. That was the brainchild of a meeting we had one day, between departments. I swear, this industry, ever-comical, gorgeous for us unfettered New Journalists. Djuna would be proud of me, I’m sure.
The ’08 Syrah, that Loxton bottle, finally dead. Would love to have another. Have to call my brother, Luke.
3/22/13 — Details. From today… the weather that tourists envision when they visit. A bit windy, but I rather enjoyed the gusts. Saw one of the winemakers moving a few select barrels, his own, 4 total, into the sun, to speed ML. I thought it was interesting, this very purist, or minimalist, method. Wish I had chance to taste his wine, a straight Cab Franc, I believe.
No French study today. No time. Was nice, at workday’s end having a glass with the crew, celebrating Lauren’s departure from Estate. Excited for her, frankly. She’s smart, very observant, will do well in whatever capacity she finds.
Popped a Merlot this evening. Vintage, ’09. And that’s all I’m reveling. That’s all I’m considering, as I want to focus on varietal AND vintage. Should pour Self another glass, as I’m not in much mood to write. Should watch my writing movie, the same one I’ve been screening for the past week.
Leaving glass in kitchen, but that may space my sips too far. Want to sip between sentences, keeping this wined articulation consistently bent. Not going to insert any new words into the book. So I’ll use some of these buried older sittings. My book, due in 9 days. How did that sneak up on the writer? Need more wine. Don’t think this glass is enough full, especially for this writer making wine. Need to visit my Merlot barrel, tomorrow. Yes, I’ll taste the blend– Just felt the urge to stop typing. Close this computer, write with ink. Meaning, actually WRITE. And I should. After all, I want to break all patterns, don’t I? I always do this, type at night, with wine at right, or left like now. Punching clock..
Tomorrow, writing the whole day. No device usage. Only pen, small pages.