And here in

the home office, quiet with Delilah playing from Mr. Hutcherson, and I wait for a video interview with Glenn to finish its upload or download or whatever.  SRJC soon, both 1A sections, and later with the winemaker interview or piece to my blog, send links to Mark and Ben.. then.. then what.  The coffee has me moving quite quick and I can’t overthink any of this as much as my character tends to, wants to, nearly does but I don’t let it.  OH!  Business cards.. was paid from Arista, and Solano to my surprise so I can alas order those cards.  I’ll do that just as soon as this video effort’s done.. and what else.. always something, but I quite very much entirely love it.

Launching the vvv idea tonight.  Why wait any longer?  Get the conversation going.. see what everyone else out there is seeing, wine-wise, what they’re drinking, just get a mammoth and encompassing conversation on wine started.  And that’s it, nothing overcomplicated as I’ve said just adoration of wine and wine thoughts and musings and maybe, occasionally, some of my wild wine writings just to add a certain flash or electrical edge to it.  I don’t know.  But I see the site and business venture, which it very much is, taking on a life of its own– and so much to add, content-wise, with my visit yesterday to SFW, picking up 4 bottles; SB, Chard, Merlot, and Cab.  My cellar, or wine closet becomes more compact and trapped in its own content, and I become more a wine writer and trapped in my visions of wine, crazy and artsy as they may be.  But that’s me.

Jotting project targets on a piece of scratch paper.  Don’t want too many on there, but I do have to be honest with myself and work harder, harder, and somehow get myself in the habit of waking at 5 like Glenn, or even the earlier 6’s like Ms. Alice.  9 minutes left in the time I have set aside for my personal writings and bloggings and mmc energies.  Then, to prep for classes, the Tobias Wolff short stories and why they’re so profound, and the intentions behind the last four we read.  Tomorrow the long day, Solano and Mendo.  So far today’s been only a melodic stretch of moments and occurrences, and now writing like this in the home study– where is the Wolff book, my journal for the semester, and…  In bag, now I feel more centered and ready for the 4 hours or so of lecturing professing my passion for literature and the short story– thinking more about my story and how this semester is moving along quicker than the writing wining adjunct thought it would.  My daughter’s on her way I keep telling myself, and everything will be more musical and love-laced, and effulgent in joy and growth, for all of us in this Autumn Walk writer’s station as we begin a true Autumn– and what an Autumn stage it is out there, with the gray, thick overhead, and the subtle but still assertive gusts from moment to moment, a couple drops on windshield taking little Kerouac to school. En fin, la météo confortable.  Helps me write better, I think.. no, I know.  Only two minutes left in the time that’s truly mine, but what can I do, I can’t stop the clock, it has a job to do.  And there it is, the knell.. I have to halt in this typing and get to work.  I should welcome and embrace it and not fight it I know but I’m a writer before anything else so it’s not as easy as just saying, “Okay time to stop, time to get ready for work, time to get in the shower, and and and…” I don’t function that way.  I mean I could, but I wouldn’t be living, more or an automaton act.  And, well, yeah, not me.

10:02.  Already late.  Ugh.. so I complain and grieve but I can’t, I think of all my winemaker friends, my sister whom I finally saw yesterday– how tired they all look from working harder than hard, from just giving their lives, truthfully, to what we drink, what I write about, to the story that precipitates to so many of us.  So I halt finally, and move my mode.  Take a sip of coffee, and go–