Had to force myself

to make it to the island but I’m here, and needing the novel done goddamnit. Having another beer, my cap for night as I think I deserve it but I’m frustrated with myself, 6 days before I turn 36 with the age that makes me realize I need hurry, type fast and finally fucking finish this goddamn thing. The novel. Then another one– and I ask myself what I really want, short pieces or novels. Well, both. But I need to finish the novel. Hoping to wake tomorrow morning and invade the wouldbe MS with 2,000 words. Today, a man from Arkansas with his wife, first couple in the room technically before we open, around 10:34, saying he didn’t know much about wine but he “got a kick out the description words…” I laughed with him, not at, and talked more about wines from different regions and how each has its own voice and impression and “light” to it. He found that interesting then told me about a Bourbon tasting he went to a while back and one of the descriptors, of some high-end sample believe it or not read: “…a touch of sweaty horse leather…” We all on our side of the bar laughed, and I said “Wow that would make me want to try it!” The man then added to the exchange how much he loves smelling the wines, how each “bouquet” as he repeated showed him something different about himself and how he saw wine.. “I just love smellin these wiiines, that’s half the fun…” he said, holding the bowl of Zin close to his olfactory receptor set. After they left, he and his wife, the day turned into a battle, leaving me much of the time behind that counter battling by myself, but I wouldn’t say I became stressed, just rushed, and I wished I could have written so many things, people, I remember thinking that a number of times, but I could only pour, and I wouldn’t let myself repeat the same descriptions and stories and pitches (but I don’t pitch, I just share passion for what I pour, I like to think). Then with day’s end, I saw what we did and I felt accomplished, and thought “What if this were my winery, what if I sold that much of my own wine?” My character wants to build, and he wants to build something people enjoy, he doesn’t want to grade papers anymore, he doesn’t want to hassle with students, he only wants happiness and Equilibrium and to feed his family; he wants to have the relationship with wine that his sister does, that Michael Browne of Kosta Browne does. He wants to be sovereign, and empowered, fuse the two: wine and Literature, words, not conveniently contort and bastardize words as marketing teams and most winemakers and sommeliers do. No– this would all be different. And he would have it so. But this character, ME, I, have to write it, his, his story and pursuits and dreams–