8/18– Up with Kerouac. 7:17am. Coffee, lovely. An I WILL get my morning mocha, no fail. Need another sip. Today, writing everything. Jack now leaving against me, between arms resting on knees, laps, singing as I type. Must be a good session then. Might be a wonderful one. Need to see how day unfolds.
No run at 6, so I’m committing to 45 mins after work. Only going for a good sprint in that number pond. Nothing more. Bringing newJournal with me to work. Wonder what the weather’s set to be. Should I do Lawndale? No… Just checked, today hight of 92. Will run around neighborhood, just explore while running, for new trails, paths, what have.
Want to get us out of this condo complex. Another reminder of how much I deplore this corner, when last night a lady banged on our door because I accidentally parked in her husband’s spot. And it was an honest error, one entirely innocent and easily fixable. Which I did, right there, on spot, moving the VW [Passat] to the street, where I bloody hate parking. She said, “You didn’t see the ‘reserved’?” I simply responded ‘no’. Then she said, “We were going to have it towed…” I’m tired of moments like this, or when we want to do laundry, or dry rather, and all the machines are taken, we have to wait. It may be done spinning/drying, but the clothes still rest in inside’s heat. Putting everything out there, I’ve decided. And I know I’ve said it before, but not like this. All writings, video, photo.. will only minimally edit. Going to live from journal entry, poem… surviving strictly by pen.
Where do I want to move? Don’t know. Maybe Carmel. Have always fantasized about that, honestly. But I don’t want to be far from family– Mom, Dad, Katie. OR, Napa. Much as I attack the mountain’s other side in writings, I love all the territories over there, the AVA’s, wineries. And don’t even get me started on the restaurants… Think our sistering county may be the candidate leading.
Cup2. Getting in shower soon, intent on that amazing day, that “awesome day” I used to wish for at the box, the one that would pull me out of that cubicle. Having quite the hunch about 8/18/13.. just sayin’.
Thinking of something while brushing teeth, now it’s gone– oh yeah! The short story in grad school.. Carl Taylor, my character, writing about a guy who traveled frequently, searching for rare collectibles– Art mostly, but some jewelry, pottery, aged furniture. Like Indiana Jones, but different. More believable, relatable. Evidence that I had the travel bug way back in ’03. OR was it ’04? In Warren Hall, which is NOW no more. They said on the news that WH had been closed for two years. Had no idea.
Will post to blog throughout day. Poems only. newJournal , at right, ready for deployment. Love the dark yellow, rustic tint of the paper, how there are NO lines. A true canvas.
9:41pm. Ran 6.2 miles, in 50 minutes, something-seconds. Not letting Self get number-obsessed. I had a great run, in this Sunriver evening summer-like scene, with lowering sun, eventually trumping moon. Planning on waking at 5:30am, to add on another 5 miles before semester starts. Still scribbling ideas for students, for introductory lectures.
Tomorrow, pseudo-Friday, then class Tuesday, THEN.. 1st day of Harvest 2013, Wednesday. Have to be at estate promptly at 6am. The precision during harvest, how closely they, the vineyard and winemaking crews, adhere to their plans, vision, made me think [on my run] of this blog. I’m going to make it work for me. I’m not saying I’m putting any added faith, or any “faith” as all in this online journal. I’m just saying that I’m refusing to spend money, yet, on Self-printing.. and with all the time, effort, energy, stress, bottles of wine I’ve put into this “blog,” it’s time for these scribbled screens to ante up.
About to brew cup of decaf, blend it with some of the chocolate milk I just picked up from Safeway. No wine, ale tonight. In no mood. Need 2B focused, completely on advance. At 34, I can only gamble, bet everything, convinced I’ll win. These two classes, the latest chapter in projectR, assuring relief of reliefs.
What’s a coffee with chocolate called? Anyway, this café-whatever’s just what I need: no over-stimulating me, not adding weight like a fermented cap.. just neutral– or not, as it’s quite comforting, really. Assuring me everything’s going to be fine. If these other bloggers can be self-sustaining, with all their hollow, over-imaged “content,” then a writer should surely be greeted with lucrative recognition.
10:05pm. Should get2SLEEP soon, this writer, for his 5:30am idealized run. Where should I go? Don’t want to do same course as tonight. Just going to run an hour. Was going to tonight, but it became too dark. My timer was set for 45 min, and I tried to extend to 60. But day would let. So tomorrow, just focused on hitting 60 min. What distance or mile pace I wind up with, I’ll embrace.
If I launch at 5:30am, returning by 6:30, that could give me some time to write, put even more of Self onto these screens/EVENTUAL pages. And please note, reader, my faith lies in books, not this blog. I’m just going to, a sort of, war with this blog, social media, all that I’m expected to accept.
No earphones. Only device to keep track of time. ONE HOUR. No more. 30 out, 30 back. Want to land in tasting Room feeling invincible, ready for any characters with ridiculous questions. Like today, a young lady from Austin, TX asking: “So why do all these grapes have French names?” I didn’t even know what to say, other than, “Well all these wines were originally from France.” Hope I didn’t come across curt, or dismissive, I just wasn’t in the mood for stupidity, or young sippers thinking they’re above the way we in wine world speak about wine. Like this other guest, making fun of all the descriptors on the menu, AND every one that I humbly offered, especially with the Gewurtztraminer, when I said it “puts out a lot of tropical floral hints.” And maybe that isn’t the “best” way to describe the wine, but she didn’t need to repeat what I said, coupled with giggle.
Off to make some more notes for Tuesday sections. Sick of writing about wine, what happens in the tasting Room.. even thinking about it makes me want to return the chocolate milk-coffee blend into the sink, atop the dirt dinner dishes.
NOTE: tasted 2013 Pope Valley SB today! From tank, down to 20-something brix. Amazing.. harvest here. In love again with wine.