1st day of 100.  3PAGES of FICTION.  In kitchen’s nook, need another glass, one bastardly full of Chardonnay.  Why am I drinking Chard again?  OH yeah, I opened it last night.  No class tomorrow.  And what I’ll be doing, taking car to dealership, then going to Sonoma’s ‘Train Town’, I think it’s called, for a family day.  Tonight at dinner, at Boudin, with Mom, Dad, Katie.. he was so vocal, responsive, observant.  More than enough material.

Exhausted from day.  Karen and I challenged each other to pull in $40 each, from tips.  What we netted: 39.50.  We both laughed.  What else can you do in “the industry”?

Should write the students a letter, but I’m in no shape at present.  Can’t wait to be in the library, studying, gathering information on my authors.  This nightcap of Chardonnay.. speaking to me in atmospheric scenic soars.  I’m distracted by all in the voice of this ’12 Sonoma Valley Burgundy.. so calm but confident, subtle yet stern.. justifiably razzing.  I don’t have any objective for this session, but to write.  And isn’t that what the truest of writing is?

Hope I wake early tomorrow as I did this morning, but earlier.  Before 5a.  I’ll write the letter then.  When I’m quite tired, but just awake enough.

And the fridge stops humming.  So the quiet down here is dangerous.  As if I type to tenaciously, I wake my son, or run risk of.  Only a couple sips left of this 11-month, 60% New French Oak-aged white Burgundy.  And later this week, when I have a night to self, I’ll brew coffee, for Self into liveliness till harsh hours.  This novel’s getting completed.  Not a negotiable station, just know.  And now, the wine truly speaks to me.  But I’ll outrun it, keep writing.  Today, that reserve room, the club members with their demands, especially that one ‘industry club member’, so funny, her own stiffening.  Who did she think she was?  I just have to laugh…  It’s wine, get a grip.