4/29/13 — Entry opened.  Tonight, red sauce pasta paired with Meritage.  Two Mt. tours.  1 $20 tip.  Straight to stash.

8:47pm.  In kitchen nook, with Meritage glass at left.  Odd, feeling guilty about all the media I uploaded to blog.  Should have been writing.  But I couldn’t, right?  I was working.  The Meritage, like my book.. voices blended.  She would agree.  As she is, always, speaking to me.  The book, not touched in some time.  After 1,000 warmup words, I’ll journal-hop over to its waters.

Warm down here.  Was all day, in valley.  Thinking of material…  The random dialogue lines I put into phone’s note function: “Takes you to that mellow land,” the lady said on the mountaintop, about the Reserve Chardonnay.  Then, I accidentally delete my notes from day, can’t recover them.  I’m feeling an anger now that’s not helpful for a written session.  Why do I trust technology?  Why do I do ANY writing on this putrid device?  Now I’m researching, on this same devil phone, how to possibly recover those notes.  Need to get all writing off this thing, this swampish laptop.  Pen2paper only, from now on.  Need a sip.

Not bothering.  Doesn’t matter.  I can embellish.  Isn’t that what my kind of writer does anyway?  Going in to work tomorrow, to write wine club notes.  For some reason, that bothers me, volcanically, moving a pen for anything other than my entries, or lectures– speaking of which, I have to plan these remaining sessions.  AND, the Fall term.  What should I do, order, for 1A?  Or 5?  Big term coming up, my “best” ever.  It’ll provide useful material, I’m sure.. from the students to the Lit I assign, to the lectures I write, to other thoughts that through head stream.  Already, ideas popping.  Won’t put any idea’d notes into this phone, you can assuredly be.

Need this book done, already.  Said I wanted it, at least a draft, done before term’s end [this semester].  So…?  Where is it, WRITER?  “I’m working on it,” I self-reply.  This wine, the blend of 5, telling me to just throw pages in.  “Stop overthinking it,” like Kelly’d say.  IT’s right.  SHE, seemingly always right.

Tasting through some tanks, and maybe barrels, with winemaker tomorrow.  Still bothered by the way my Merlot tasted yesterday.  Can’t stir the lees, as that’ll breakup the color, possibly.  Can’t top just yet, as I just sulfured it.  SO, I guess I just wait.  I’m a writer.. I HATE waiting.  I don’t have time to bloody wait.  Who waits, in the Art world?  Ugh, don’t a choice have.  See what I can do, tomorrow.

Not sure how much I have in stash.  Thinking that’ll be my winemaking jolt, rather than Self-publishing coinage.  When I need to publish, I’ll pull money from somewhere, as I don’t plan on funding a huge run.  Just small blocks at a time.  Due for a break, I feel.. but then I have an idea for media, the blog, selling wine, what’s beyond this Now, the current affairs’ state.  Have to think, do a little research.  See all these other rascally lack-linen mates with their own wine businesses, I should be there, NOW, in my office, sipping my coffee, selling wine, putting together media plans, marketing missions/visions.. LIVING.  Not merely existing in scathed wage.

This blend, a bit more engulfing than the winemaker the other day spoke.  He said it was young, that it should be let alone for a couple years.  OR, decanted.  And I HAVE had the bottle open for almost 2 hrs, so never mind.  But he was right in 1 right: this wine’s depth is daunting; IT has a varied nature that need serious cognitive connection; It’s seductive in its palate mathematics; it solves its own equation the conveniently reconfigures for another challenge.  Listing notes, or “nuances” (hate that cursed word), not a reasonable act with wine this dimensional.

One lady today, called the Merlot, ’10, a “big bumpy wine.. this is a bumpy wine,” she said, looking at her husband, as if to say with her eyes ‘agree with me’.  For ’13, no matter what, I’m doing 1 wine.  Only.  A Merlot.  The best I can acquire.  Will let native take off on its own, then I’ll inoculate if there’s any trouble, or annoying pauses.  Refuse to let any other varietal touch it, I don’t care what the winemakers counsel.  I’m an Artist, I can figure it out, make wine, GOOD wine, or maybe even GREAT wine, on my own.

Going to need a break in a minute.  Note2Self: research benefits to flash pasteurizing of wine, redox potential, sulfur pros & cons, topping philosophies.  Can’t get my Merlot away from my head.. bothering me like a bad grade on a test.  Yes, the blend’s good, I know, but Blair helped me tremendously with it.  So it’s not TOTALLY mine.  The Merlot is, more or less.  Just have to let it sit, evolve.. maybe it’s mad with its barreler.  hope not.

Can’t wait for another glass of this blend.  Want to wait, though.. let the oxygen talk to it.  Wonder what the wine wants to say, versus what I hope it says, or what I think it’s saying, or how I’ll interpret its suggestions.  Just had another scuffle with technology, with this laptop.. it wouldn’t turn on, so I had to restart.  Could have lost this entry’s progress, but it did save.  Lucky break, I guess.  Only words away from connecting to the newJournal.  Ink, paper.  No way that’ll get lost.  I hate the dependency on the functionality of these devices.  Emerson never had to deal with this nonsense.  One of my guests, speaking of American Scholars, was going for her doctorate in psych [I believe].  Made me AGAIN entertain my PhD.  I will, one day.  For my personal vision, “satisfaction.”

This blend, tasting better with each pass.  Watching Midnight in Paris, for the who-knows-how-many-th time.  Just love the simplicity of that time in my city.. the richness.. the characters.. the musical voice of everyone, writers and non.  Can’t wait to visit MY wines, tomorrow, with my professional winemaking friends.  Learning, much I can.


Almost had another folly with

this thing.  this tar-tailed laptop.

my fault, I know.  past what i want

2B in past.  dash limpingly to another

crash.  then recalculate.  shrouded pace.