Soundly Surrounded

Writing freely for the first time in a month.

Novel done.  At Solano.  Listening to jazz through these earphones and not wanting to grade a thing.  Want the day off.  And I SHOULD take the day off.

Won’t lie, I’m a bit burned out on the driving and the grading, the teaching and being evaluated or reviewed or whatever term the department wants to use this week.  Going up to Healdsburg after class, may have a cup of coffee at the shed, write for a bit, then get the little Beat.. want to read a little, maybe buy a bottle of nice something-red for tonight.. that Cartograph Pinot, possibly.  Tonight I write freely and build my written inventory like my novel’s character.  Funny, in writing that novel I had a character teaching me about myself.  First time that’s happened.  His friend having a son, and the main char’ sometimes taking the son (inspired by Jack) to school, wishing he had that, the son presence in his life, his own family.  Maketh me appreciate my time with little Kerouac more– oh this feels so delightful and ethereal, otherworldly and alchemically meditative, metaphysical boon here in this parlor, knowing the semester’s nearly done.  And my daughter’s nearly here!  Ms. Austen……  What will she be like?  How will she see me?  And when in college, how will her read of her father’s work differ from her brother’s?  I know that’s selfish but a writer with children can’t help but think those angles of thought and hypotheticals..

10:33 the laptop says, 10:27 on phone.  How do I know which one tells the goddamn truth?  Thoughts of an adjunct just circle and circle…  People keep coming into this quiet room and breaking the quiet to use the bathrooms and slamming the doors.  IS that necessary?  My mood nearly falls but I catch it.  Should probably get ready to have class, be a serious professor–

things to do today:

Write standalone article.

Write another.

Get a wine from Bottle Barn.

And that’s it.  My priorities.  Writing and wine.  Not a problem, right? I have to have my loves and passions that are just mine, no?  Wine puts in my focus new focus and life and has me ever pursuant of inquiry in the viticultural vortex around me the plainly scribbling mortal.

Driving here this morning, and pulling over to photograph that vineyard, I thought of, again and again, again, the “perfect world conversation” between dad and I, about a year ago I’m thinking now.  And wine has to envelop me.  The article I write tonight will address that word, especially.. “envelop”.  And for?  So you, the consumer, can intensify and strengthen YOUR relationship with wine.  Who gives a shit what others like to think about what you drink.. if it’s not haughty enough, or of some regular level to them.  Who are they?  And why do they feel it demanded to advise you?  On drinking wine!  Wine is YOU.  Wine is TRUTH.  And people aforementioned, despicably dishonest, most especially with themselves.  Neither you nor wine need them.