Triangulating everything for the next 20 or so minutes.. channeling if you would. Can’t remember the last day I was actually excited about the first day at a job.. but this estate and the views, the vines and the hills, road there (Westside) all inviting and encouraging the way I need, the way the other places weren’t. I’m on the ground as I usually am between classes, with the laptop on my lap, coffee left, and thinking of how to take the day, how to arm myself when there– meaning, laptop, do I bring, or do I just carry notebooks? What would the real writer do? Well that’s obvious, take notes then record or officially paginate later, with these keys, do I do that? I don’t trust my bloody Self to do that– but I have to change, I know.. that’s what those writers in the book Danny bought me do. Saxophone.. I used to play, did I note that somewhere, here, in this journal or in the two books I still haven’t edited? Have to laugh but I know I shouldn’t, I should just dive in and read my work, ‘cover-to-cover’ as they say.. sip….. Now cup’s on right, wasted three or four seconds picking it up with left hand only to transfer to right. Confused by sides and why we always have to choose one, not sure what made me think of that but that’s where my head is this morning. There, and — Message on phone, Andrea, telling me that a TR manager’s going to call me. What? That would have been helpful a month ago, when I kept calling her expressing my eagerness and bold attempts to get back into the tasting room, any tasting room, just to have income streaming.. but I’m set now, thanks, I should message her back, or maybe I’ll be nonresponsive as she was to me. Don’t want to be vengeful, and I’m not really, I’m just annoyed with people like this, in the wine industry, when you need help they string you along but when something rises at their convenience THEN they contact you. How interesting, how putrid. Another sip…..
Not much time left in this jam session but my thoughts go everywhere and I just want to write from that picnic bench at this new estate, maybe that’s what I’ll do for lunch, have.. words, just words.. and I don’t have time or a bag of seconds and minutes to rifle through a thesaurus or dictionary.. I have to use the tags and labels and colorers I already have. No clouds, only sun, and my time is my time again.. if I were at K—-, I’d be in my car now, in the Kenwood lot, or that overflow lot looking at my tree, listening to this Hutcherson, typing till the obligation cut my cord, pummeled my peace into some shape of ‘responsibility’ — Not a fan of Schwarzeneggar, but I saw him speak recently, online somewhere, criticizing modern lifters or whomever he sees in the gym, on their phones instead of working out, concentrating, truly devoting one’s self to the passion, or task, or path. “You go all-out,” he said. And that’s what I am, need to keep in my wheels, the all-out mentality, especially with little Kerouac becoming more observant of me and what I do and what I do for work, my passions and interests. He knows I write, and he knows I have books and love books and that I teach like his mama.. the more perceptive he grows, I want him to be aware of my obsession with words and descriptions, and ideas, the Story itself, theory, Self-education.. I want him to always see me with a pen, with a book, never with a bloody phone in my hand.. I’ll work on this.. and I’m doing well so far, I just need to elevate my energies and dedication.
I think of the people still at the old winery, like Danny, and feel horrible for them.. never again, never. No more. Can’t afford that, that reality and that horror to happen to me again.. realizations this morning.. and the Newness I need, no more repeats and turning pages backwards.. Story, onward, a waterfall of realization and sentences and characters, objects.. the coffee, its cup, me sipping, looking left out through the spaced blinds and wondering how today will go, what will I write on that bench? What wines will they have me taste? Will I tour the entire property?
Getting slower, I can feel. But why? I’m caffeinated, plenty energized.. the songs calm me, I guess.. the adjunct life, so many blogs out there complaining, grieving over their life’s constituents and how the profession is killing them monetarily.. I have to ask, why let it? Why not spin into a Story, into a varied vortex of Art? I understand the adjunct woes, I just don’t want to live like that, woe-ing, steeped in sorrow and self-pity. I certainly don’t want my little Artist to see me like that. I never saw my father so. SO, I won’t that way go.. rather, I’ll research, understand the adjunct plight further, as it is quite interesting. Fascinating, actually.. the passion to teach and the love for students but the intense hatred for the system that some of these teachers allow to compromise their sight and performance. Sad.
My time is up. The alarm didn’t sound. Interesting. Wonder why– “Stay away from the phone, Mike!” I say to myself. Not going to edit this session (giving Self till 9AM). Like a jazz session, a group of musicians getting together and just playing, playing! Enjoying the concerted energy and Art they create, and we as music lovers watch, admire, and perhaps even study, learn from… Want more coffee but I know I shouldn’t. So I won’t. I’ll stop at SBUX on the way to RRV. Going a different way this time. My first visit, taking Westside Road from the Central H-burg exit was not in any sorting advantageous. And so.. to the day, the morning, its remainder, more stories and lessons for me as a writer.. the all-out bout.. so thankful not to be traveling to that urban tasting room. The people there are kind, knowledgeable, inviting (for the most part, though some were a bit boastful, self-involved, and territorial, which is incredibly typical of the wine world, but…..), but it’s not for me. At all. But today, this new estate, Arista, very much so. And “FINALLY!” I think. Why did it take so long? How lovely, the moment I realize this! And I can teach more! Hopefully two classes for Summer, and I’m shooting for SIX in Fall! Back on the Road.. to Mendo and SSU, and wherever the Story takes me.. I’m open, ready for it to guide this adjunct, this writer… this character. Namaste…..