Decided to come back home after Jackie to school and the Schwab transfer… In house, I can leave at 10:05, 10:10 at latest.. had the thought of going to the estate early and writing there but there’s always the distraction of co-workers, one of them wanting to talk or simply saying hello and me spending the five or seven seconds responding and follow with some pass-chat. But I’m here, in the Autumn Walk fort with my music and a mocha (4 shots) and the quiet, the words and the visions; lecture last night even riled me, has me thinking about my Road and my future and “career” I want to build with this blog and my writing and the Autonomy of it all. ‘IT’ all.
Already warming outside. Wonder what the temp feels like in other parts of the country, in Paris, and Morocco, Egypt, Israel, Russia… I want to see everything and experience everything, see more than just the world; its stories and everything it wants to tell me. It wants to meet me just as I it. And that’s where I’ll find IT. A bit stuck now, for some reason, unable to develop any kind of meaningful direction or thesis with this sitting, but the mocha tells me to focus on this new house, the Autumn Walk base, where I no domicile with my son, wife, where it all starts, the building and the collective and profuse story of Mike Madigan the writer– budget and build and conserve and just write everything.. should I call in sick to the winery, stay home and write all day? No of course not, I have to live to write and observe what’s out there, and wine is a prominent consistency in my story, even if I don’t want it so some of the time. In college, walking the halls of Nichols and Stevenson, thinking about me as a professor, and that was ’99-’01, and now here I am an adjunct, never seeing anything full-time, getting an interview here and there over the years (none recent), but I’m still the adjunct, embracing it and abhorring it as well. So I have that.. and I have wine.. and running.. being a parent.. my rush for TOTAL Wellness….. and all put into the bottle, for this Ox. And quite primary, these realities, not auxiliary. This is me, this blogger and using everything, me writing here in this new study just off to the right as you walk into the A-Walk station– my novelist hotel… Singularity, I then think.. not so many projects.. the Massamen novel. That goddamn book I have to write, as it won’t let me ignore it, and I know answers wait in the 100 days of 3 pages project I did last year into the beginning of this 2015 chapter– so I think more, more, get what I want, thinking into space and believing it: me with my own office, soon having an even larger estate to ourselves.. a farm maybe, some vines, waking and walking the grounds just as Al and Janice do.. only living, and never worrying. About anything. That’s Wellness, especially in totality, when you believe it and its so immediate.
9:27, and I’m more than relaxed at this desk. I’ll take pictures today on the property, new ones of the forming clusters (Pinot), and the way the sun ambiates through the light leaves in their hang from the empowered and confident singing canes. I just want to walk, look at them.. yes take a couple stills but just enjoy the air and the leaves and the clusters and them looking back at me, laughing, bragging that they will finish their project, and I don’t feel violated or assaulted by that. They’re encouraging me to finish the novel, sell it. “Harvest the full manuscript, all 307 pages, Mike!” I look back at them like I’ve disappointed them, but I promise I will, and I will comb those 350-some pages of the 100 days project. I know there’s something there, my days at the last winery and how miserable I was, I can learn from that, all the entries I wrote while in that! The clusters will be most proud of the walking writer. I’ll make them proud.. I’ll give them no choice BUT to be proud of me.