…the wine story of me ever-complexing, pleasurably vexing, wondering what I can do next and where I can go, who I can meet who’ll provide something else to the story. Took several notes in the new journal yesterday at the winery. Still not in much a writing mood but I try to pull myself from it, and think more of the day, how I need coffee, the poems I need to gather, STILL, that collection of prose writings I set aside years ago and did nothing with. What if today is that day? THAT day. That day I change everything and the habits in me that keep me from what I want and the office on the square, mind wondering, wandering, to visions that make me forget about this odd feeling, this lack of energy this morning.
Tomorrow, Week 15. Short, short, so I don’t need to stress or worry about papers– in fact, I think everything’s handed back. Can’t remember the last time that was my affairs’ state. Nearing an admirable point in the novel, the ramble the ramble all started by wine– but I need more a story, something to investigate, something to target. So I fixate on Healdsburg. Why wish for a story or subject when I already have one? So I start with the tasting room on Plaza, then walk to Flying Goat Coffee, or Oakville Grocery. Get a small cup of black and walk around the actual Square a couple times, tourists just coming out for a morning walk, attempts to rid the wine from the night’s before’s reverb. The go to the bakery just next to the bookstore, walk in but the smell is so delicious and believably rich they walk out, not ready for such toothsome treats. They stick to coffee as I do and continue the walk, scouting the tasting rooms that dominate the downtown territory, already planning their day of tasting, the next one, today. They can’t wait and they photograph everything and get their hands on and pocket every single map and guide and ‘tips’ literature they can. “We should move out here,” you can hear some of them entertain or “I swear, if we could afford it…”