Hand-Picked

Now I write for me, for about a halfhour before leaving for campus.. all caught up on grading and today we workshop our drafts.  Tempered my sips of that lovely Merlot last night so today I’m not even a bit slowed by anything.  Finishing my mocha and having sent emails to clients and prospects the writer feels wonderful.  But I still need to start rising at 5AM or earlier, like Glenn as I’ve said in past posts.  This writing I’ll post later to the blog but not immediately as I want that Taft Street Merlot post to remain up there till I get home, till this evening when I sip what remains in the bottle.

More and more, I want to make wine and see my label and business grow and my babies working in the office and in the tasting room with me.. Should count the stash below this desk to see what I should put into the account, for mmc and the future–hopefully not too ‘future’–winery.  Starting with SB and Merlot, hence why I bought the Taft at Bottle Barn yesterday, on spec, and so glad I did.

Another opening at SRJC, for FT faculty.  Do I want it?  Do I even think I could get it?  And if I did, would I be happy I landed such a position, pulling me farther from wine and winemaking and mmc?  Not sure what to think.  If I do apply, though, how much chance to have at getting the FT spot?  Not going to stress, and even if I did get it, which I’m quite sure I won’t, I don’t have to reduce my presence in wine..  thoughts of the adjunct and the adjunct who writes more than he “teaches” and who has two babies to support.  More ideas for wine and my relationship with it, drawing from Glenn and everything I taste, like last night’s Merlot.. almost got distracted by an indicator on phone, but I’m keeping my fingers on keys–  the rhythm I hear from music and how it fuses and infuses into my types, the wine I see and smell like yesterday during fermentation and how I know I could do what my sister and Glenn do, maybe not as well right away but some day.  I’m perpetually haunted by these images of Jack and M2 in the tasting room, or on the crush pad, or doing something alongside their father, naming wines after them or after one of their moments or funny sentences, like Jackie’s “tomahyoh”, trying his hardest to annunciate ‘tomorrow’.  For some reason, I see that as a blended of Syrah, Merlot, and something else.  Just the odd appearance of the word but the proverbial charm to how it sounds and Jackie himself as a character.  All these images and thoughts and fantasies won’t let me alone, at all even for a second.

Last night Mom messaged me saying something of the tune that sometimes she thinks I should have majored in V&E, or just Viticulture.  Which is only meant and taken as love, high praise and compliment.  But I responded, kindly and with elevated respect, that ‘no’, it was written that I take the Literary path.  That is, after all, what brought me to wine’s world and life in the first.

Again I find myself waiting for pictures from yesterday’s beyond-motivating and enriching visit to the crush pad to download.  And the caffeine keeps the writer writing freely and with more love in his veins for wine and family and that picture of my family winery– being a father is to credit for this realization, and how wonderful my son and wife and family are.  All of us in this together.  Should message my sister at some point, see how 2015’s harvest her treats.

Not much time before this writer has to get in the shower and ready for class.  Week 5 of the term, nearly done.  Which leaves about 13 more to go, maybe a couple pinches less.  M2, perhaps here in late November, I don’t know.  But I can’t wait to see her, and see what drive and explosive propulsion she provides my work ethic and writing and what all this in the present semester’s story tells.  And I know I’ve said this before, but this is shaping to be the most beneficial term to date, of my life and this period and how wine has recently shaped the writer, from yes being around Glenn, but as well all the SELF-education I’ve embraced and experienced–  There’s only ‘up’ from here.  Finishing my website last night and getting closer to launching the startup.. this wrier finally sees IT.  The IT mentioned by Sal and Dean.  The IT Kerouac sought but never attained.

Distracted by some footage I shot yesterday of Glenn talking about the Kick Ranch Syrah and how the fermentation just started to take off.  The bubbling juice and the dark, deep, commanding color of the wine in that bin.

Have to be in shower in 5 minutes, but the gray above Autumn Walk and the assurance of rain later only has me wanting to stay home, another day off like yesterday but yesterday was anything but a day off in my mind, going everywhere and anywhere for material, for wine content– the story and the story about me and my wine life– the wine I’ll make and the wines I now study; their characters and the fermentations of all. Senses antagonized, and in that music to which I bob my head and sing, and envision more– my family doing punchdowns, or helping move barrels, or walking rows just before a pick.. the story’s here.  And I’m moving.

So much on the plate and the plate needs to be in one spot, in wine’s lot.  More I see the barrels in front of me, full of grapes I harvested and off to age and for secondary ferm’..  Just keep writing, I tell myself, and keep thinking in wine’s language– le langage du vin.  And that’s all I want to speak, frankly.  I know that’s what will provide the story I want and how I want to live– the life I see for my babies and the future that I want to taste, sip.. live.

(9/16/15)