And.. I think I’m changing everything

about my mood and scope before 36– actually I don’t think I know. And telling what certain matters and conservative-isms concerning the wine world and its industry and anything else, I just don’t care– or not that I don’t care I’m just not going to preoccupy mySelf with wheels that I have no interest in turning. And how I write, how some jab at it with placings like “interesting” or “it’s different” coupled with a snide smirk or laugh, I don’t have time, that’s it, and it’s altogether obvious those types are gargling their own envy in how I write what I like and just bob to my own Beat– I care little about these plebeians, about as much I do about students that flock to some hollow-headed website to gripe and pipe about my pedagogy and lecture patterns and writings. I’m going to do what I do, that’s what REAL writers do. And yes you’ll make more money with your plastic acronym job title– yes you should be so proud of yourself having a job title– but I’m in the ionosphere, downlooking, not concerned and free– no suit on me, devil– and I sip the Rhône blend that a new wine room friend me gifted.. I could spend the rest of my life caring about what people think and so concerned about reviews and acceptance or just live my life, and wine IS about Life so I’ll row in that flow– but wait, the wine tells me something as it escapes my circulatory: slow, Michael, slow.. don’t be too much a whim runner.. tomorrow’s the eve of the next death reminder, and with that you have to be introspective, I think Tell-Tale Heart, I hear it beating and I can only bob to that Beat. So now I don’t care, like my cousin would cite with that Howard Stern movie, “I want to see what he’ll say next…” So here’s what I say: bring on all criticism! I’m the one writing, not you! You only comment– And if you react, then you’re imbued in my compositional cue! I win.

Only a little more to write then I go to bed. And tomorrow, I’ll run. 6 miles if my body’ll let me. Then I wait for yet another delivery. And my mood gets more sharkish– I go into this new number with kung-fu sense; sharp and quick and ever-ready. I’m more logical than emotional now, if you can believe, and I will write on this blend tomorrow for the MOCK SOMM series.. I’ll be the rest of my life like this, a want-to-please-er, if I don’t become now drastic.. no more adjunct fishing, and no more silence in the wine industry and for certain targets, like the box from years ago and that pig-poled Kenwood winery that’s more like a supermarket than a place for wine-lovers or even the most naive of tourists. And I WILL name names, when I’m ready– Like Nick, my cousin, said the other day in a message: “Just do what Pac would do… Hit Em Up!!!!” Funny, as I was listening to one of his tracks form the ‘Me Against the World’ album this morning, “If I Die Tonight”. And what if I did, what if I didn’t have much time left? Would I want to leave like this, in this position and always chasing and hoping to please? Not that I am, entirely, but I am partially, I feel– Need sleep, the rest for the writer– “Yeah, that entry last night was.. interesting.. different…..” That’s such a useful comment, and I’m so beautified in hearing you voice it. My forever thanks, pig…..