Up and writing. 

Finished a piece for client 2.  Jackie still asleep.  After taking him to school I’m going to come back here and do a thorough inventory of everything in this writer’s written life.  Everything off the desk, and everything organized.  Wanted to wake earlier this morning but you know how that goes…

Not in any rush this morning.  I’m tired of rushing and feeling rushed and always looking at the clock.  I’m done.  For today.  For this morning.

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Just went upstairs to check on his, still very much asleep.  And I’m going with the flow, not stressing and certainly not bothering him, to wake Jackie now would be selfish, would be to get him on my timeline.  Well lucky for him, and me, this morning there is no deadline or timeline.  I’m enjoying my morning and my coffee and my writing, and re-organizing.  Looking at a picture I posted last night I realize it’s all about wine for me, and the union with literature and writing and storytelling, education and exploration; SELF-education and all that be.  I look at the other pictures I’ve taken, as I have these last couple days and realize there’s more, and this startup that’s on my brain, like a superblog, or some grand journal meant for sharing and for educating, bringing wine lovers to their favorite wines.. connecting consumers or just curious wine drinkers to wines they may like.. let these great creative tidal waves continue in their pleasant attack!  Have to edit the client’s piece– or check on little Kerouac again.. let me decide, or not– OH!  Have to type out the lecture from last class, and that will give this writer an edge on today’s sessions.  Thinking of my current business model and how everything is broken down, how I charge to what clients expect to what material I put on this new project of mine, name of which I’ll keep withheld for a bit, but it WILL change everything.. everything…..  EVERYTHING.

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Another check on my little Artist, and…..  Still sleeping.  Poor little bloke.  Must be tired from all that play yesterday in the Autumn Walk horseshoe, with his little friends and their first cars, the little motorized ones with a cheap radio inside to make them feel grownup.  Grownup.. mature.. something I want to be but don’t.  And why?  ‘Cause then you get reasonable, you start over-reasoning.  The fun stops.  Not me, and not with this new project.

Another struggle with tech ensues, and yes it’s with downloading some pictures.  Always with this.  But I put myself in the position, being a blogger or whatever I’m called.  Hear Jack waking, finally, at 7:37, I think.  So accomplished two writings this morning; for client and Self.  No loss at all.  And hopefully my little Beat’s well rested.

Forgot to note that I finished three standalone poems yesterday– or, one longer piece and two haikus, for the short collection I’m putting together and planning to soon print, publish, let out in the world– but so much more to do.  Going up the stairs again to check on little Sal Paradise…..

Back from taking J to school, posted piece to client blog, now fiddling with photos, and about to pull trigger on new blog/site idea..  Not revealing the name here, as I said, and I don’t mean to be antagonistic in saying such, but I need to keep my cards withheld.. and now that I think, I need to do a bit more brainstorming on it before I do pull the trigger.  And why do I have to phrase it like that, “pull the trigger”?  What?  That’s not how I speak and certainly not how I write, I’m here in the study with all this professor evidence around me and my 3-shot mocha, and so thankful for this peace this moment and this sanity at least FOR this moment.  Haven’t heard from two prospects but I’m not letting that into or under my skin even minutely.  One of these prospects always expresses something but–  No, not on this page.  The story of me and wine and the Pinot I tasted last night, from Napa when on my little Napa mission to downtown, then eating at that “Rose” joint.  With that bar, the burger I had and the fries I started and meant to save for Jackie but finished on the long drive home, driving through Glen Ellen/Warm Springs/Bennett Valley.  Looking at the clock, thinking in terms of deadlines, that’s the only way to make this, any of this, “this”, happen.  In shower by 11, latest, post this entry then start on brainstorming of new site..  fiddle with layouts and formats and images.. the purpose is to– save it for the brainstorming page, Mike!  That can’t be hacked.. that can’t be stolen.

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Excited to get back out into the vineyard on Friday with Glenn, seeing where I will be next vintage, making my own wine and seeing it ferment, develop and change and become more characterized.. my wine, my label, and I won’t fail in this label, the whoso cellars vision finally coming to its awaited stature and stance.

Pushing to finish this sitting, this thousand words, and I don’t know why now all of a sudden I want to pursue Zinfandels.  Why?  I’ve always disparages the varietal and more or less looked down upon it.  Why the certain curiosity?  I think, and I’m quite sure actually, it’s from the Arista Zin that’s now poured in the tasting room.

Now more ideas me accost.. but I can’t take on too much with these 4 classes, I know, believe me.  So I pause, and I wait, and not be too reactive.  This methodology will make me a more proficient writer and better businessman in the run long, I know..  Still have to finish the syllabus for the Mendo section.  See?  How could I possibly take on more?  My daughter will be proud of her writer-papa, when she arrives this December, she’ll see how hard I’ve worked and she’ll be more than elated to know all my focus in that moment is on HER.  My family.  And nothing else.

(8/26/15)