Done. Back.

From my run. 8:44 and I have to be in shower in 16 minutes so not much time to type.. coffee machine ready for my biding, and go….. 6.2 miles and I wasn’t going to go, and I wouldn’t have if Ms. Alice didn’t urge I go now, saying I’ll feel much better once I’m out there, in my intervals, in the fog which there was plenty of.. and I ran to music this jaunt, to the Bonobo station, not that simplistic and deathly repetitive ‘Dance Cardio’ station, or airborne frequency. Heartrate up I’m having a bit of trouble hitting the keys accurately. But I stay in the chair.. on the run I thought of designing my own course, online, getting away from the dependence on community colleges, so I can stop begging SSU for a section, sections. Was starting to overheat or what felt like overheating, so I removed my shirt, now I have chills, but the coffee helps that. All elements in order. Today’s Day 3 at Arista, and I again look forward to being there, of course, but the drive, and the fields and that passage that’s canopied with what I think are redwoods.. a different AVA, a different Story and characters, what people are after– mostly Pinot. Some are on a Chardonnay charge, but not many. They’ll just pick up a bottle or two with the six or more Pinots they’ve ordered. But back to this online course… About Kerouac, the before an after.. before and after what, though? The Road? Maybe that’s the wrong approach.. or maybe explore the Road with Kerouac and his friends… More reading to do.. more research, and I welcome it! Tomorrow, working again, but it should be slow.. so maybe I’ll bring work, papers and my notes with me. I did wake early this morning, earlier enough to write but I didn’t. Went back to sleep, but here I am and I’m writing and thinking.. this tired adjunct after his 6.2. I have to make more writings in the little notebook, somehow.. again, like when I was at K—-, just singular words, thoughts, even if I have Pinot written eight times on the same page, that suffices.. the jazz know in the nook of this kitchen has me going in my many ways, unable to concentrate, but I know me by now, nearly 36, with my typings and pennings and sittings. 8:55, the jazz tells me not to stop just dream and daydream and be immature, cause trouble; write about it, name names if you want, but I don’t that would only bring them, places like K—- and other spots attention they don’t deserve.. and I won’t let them attach to my writings, that’s why I scalp their name down to one bloody letter. I WIN. As always. Traversing in my trots across inner lessons and lectures, will need another cup of coffee– just thought, should write someone a letter, maybe Amber, or Dav.. or just keep journaling, and what am I writing about? That I’m writing? That’s how I feel.. so maybe it’s time to stop.. sip my coffee and think again about starting a wine “label”– NO! Stop that! Just write about it! The winemaker finds her way by ignoring her bosses, telling them to trust her and they do but they don’t listen to her. They want to be listened to. And what could a woman know? Want to keep writing but I have to get in the shower and go get my morning mocha, which I’ve very much again resigned myself to. Today, a 4-shot.. and stay writing.. observing.. taste through the wines, write down words, ones people don’t often use, like ‘circumvolve’.. “The Russian River Pinot, in its 3-vineyard blending very much circumvolves in its suggestion, and on your palate.” Example, evidence of my echoing entertainment, currently. 9:03.. to shower….. Beginning the chapter, chapter 3, Day 3 on this new estate, the new hills and colors, rocks and stories, how the clouds pass and look down at me to paint the terrestrial surrounding to my benefit, for the writing and the moment’s glimmer.

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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