And I’m sipping Sangiovese, from my buddy Mike’s label.  Loving everything about it.. and I know I’ve found my subject, in wine, winemaking.. making the ground come to life by way of a grape.  It’s amazing when you think about it, really.  Tonight, in class, while the students reacted to Walls’ book, I could only think of what Walls shares through her pages.. everything she saw, was exposed to.. how she had to battle Life.  And what am I battling?  Strangely, wine’s industry, still.  That other winery, wouldn’t budge with their $15/hour and 90-day waiting period for benefits.  Well, neither would I, as I told India.  So now, where do I go?  Well, to my own office, of course.  Took a notebook from the department’s supply drawer, this evening.  Wrote a couple lines in it.. and have to put together a book– now, it’s dire.  The industry, where it puts us.. we don’t have to accept if we don’t want to.  The guy I saw at Palooza the other day, once a TR employee and now with his own label.  Like Dad has ALWAYS said: “If that guy can do it, then so can I.” I’m not settling for nonsense, and I won’t be kept down.  This wine, made by Mike, delivering a thickness to its palate.. and a theatric pulse to its “finish”.  Why do guest always comment on that.. “Oh, this has a nice finish,” one guy said the other day, I think he was from Ohio, or Utah.. or the tannins.  “Tannins…  Tannins…  This isn’t as tannin-y as the other one…” I’m not saying there’s a way to talk about wine or a way you shouldn’t, I just don’t think it should be over-thought– or ‘OVERthought’ as I write for the students.  This Saturday I’ll have a writer’s retreat, here at home, and I plan on going further than I ever have with such a night, having more pages proofed and printed than I ever thought I could in a single night.  And I’ll compose new material, don’t worry, I just want my book to take shape– and no excess fictiveness.  I’ll write the True, the true truth.  And I’ll enjoy wine, interpret its steps.  This one, Mikes: bold, forward, yet subtle and poetic.  There’s scenic circles in this bottle, music too.  I love it, frankly, and this is the type of bottle that only emboldens my passion for wine, how it gallops across a palate, how it recites to all senses, even ones that haven’t been discovered or categorized.

What do I get mySelf for dinner this Sat?  A steak, somewhere, I’m thinking.  Create a scene here in the condo.. clear this nook table, open the wine, play some of the jazz J.K. would enjoy, and have my tasty tableau.  IT, will be perfect, I promise my Self.

Still feel the runs from the last two days.  I’m hoping to fit one in, come Wednesday.  A ten-miler.  Let’s see…  I want to feel alive, more alive than I’ve ever felt.  And with this age, thirty-goddamn-five!  No more applying.  I’m doing what I want, recite to MY Beat–