No mood to title.  Just write.  Sipping the Viognier we took home yesterday.  Left mine in the closet behind the TR–again, yesterday– as I didn’t wish it cook in the Passat’s cabin while I ran Lawndale.  So now I’m here, in the nook, torridly feeling the flames of this white Rhône.  More than hot today.. like I was somewhere else.  Arizona, Kuwait.. I don’t know.  Need another glass.  And after I get that glass, I remember my first years in the wine world.. I mean, working in it.. in the industry.  There were no concerns, then.  No serious leans, no incongruent ilk, no skews–  It was just passionate people loving wine, selling bottles in which they believed.  Bought a Pinot today from a winery just down the road, and I was surprised how it so folded me, coerced me with its palate’d dialogue and delicious diatribe.  I was sold, so I bought–  Wine is definitely part of MY story, and I’ll make it mind, not what the industry wants it to be in my Life, as then it wouldn’t be my life.  The Viognier, speaking to me louder, louder, singing now.  How would I make a ‘V’?  With less oak, for sure.. this type of wine, this time of year, need be crisp, clean direct and decisive.  It needs to fit the moment.  And my moment, in this nook is wishing Self to Road, to where I’d write from hotel rooms, sipping a wine like this, in Miami, or anywhere heated.. even in the Madigan cabin in Sunriver, just reading, noting whatever came to mind.  The book, progressed, from this morning’s additions.  And I’ll edit minimally, if at all.  I need more money, after again looking at what the winery deposited into my account, Friday.  How insulting.  This Summer term, made to mold a new manuscript.  The teaching blog.. going to have it be the place where students submit their responses.  Not the longer papers–  Or maybe I should have blog responses be part of the grade requirement, something near two posts a week.. that’s 16 total, for all Summer’s stretch.  Have to come to some resolve tomorrow.  Now, the writer needs another sip, need to kill the glass.  Had thoughts of space today, the images, what we can see from Earth…  Now looking for internet resources, and I find images that I can describe with curt prose.  One of my ’35 Laws’ is to explore space, find out what’s ‘out there’.  See it, if I can.  Should probably get connected to that observatory in Kenwood, if I can.  Funny that I suddenly have an inclining interest in Astronomy of late, as I first earned a ‘D’ when at Foothill College, having to retake it later, earning a ‘B’.  But this would be for me, for curiosity’s seductive spiral, solely.

Thinking about that “teaching blog”, now, what I should do with it–  Maybe it isn’t bottledaux that I should eliminate, but rather maddenedread.  How much longer do I want to be conventionally teaching?  Mind you, reader, this could be the white wielding its ire, so who knows if I’ll have firm accord with what I’m not with these keys streaming…  Have to write the day’s poem, 35 Law #20…  And I can’t think of from where to jump, my mind too tepid with normality’s despondent doses.  Now I need to stop the day, time where it rides.  I look back at the Viognier, and only a sip sits in that bowl.  If I WERE in a hotel, on the Road as I should be at this point in my Life, I’d get into bed, appreciate where I was, how I got there, and what I’d see the next day, after wine, before coffee.