In the tasting room before a single sipper sips a thing. They never get to see this and I rarely do as well.. Prepping further for semester, making notes on first day’s sheet. This semester has to be it, IT, the IT I’ve been dreaming of and envisioning, what brings me to the Road.. So then I think, “Less emphasis on wine, its industry?” No tasting room stint or sales position, or any job any industry employer, on either side of the mountain, can give me the career I want, and I’ve already many times said that. So that said, I continue with recording everything and bringing it back to literature and my studied authors.
Already I feel bored in my shift.. bar set up, wines open (still need to put out menus), and then I’m ready I guess. To do what, tell the wines’ story, which I love doing.. but I need the Road, travel, the other scenes and characters in those scenes.. traveling blogger and journalist and— SHIT. Forgot about my Healdsburg piece. It’s okay.. I know where the notes are.. I’ll start with this town, the square, and all the wineries on it, and then I see overseas. I can see it. Now in front of me, from the Azores to the Czech Republic, Spain, Italy, and back to my city Paris. Healdsburg will much be to credit for my nearing expeditions.
Have music playing, here in this studio-esque TR. Thinking.. my end-game, as Kevin said, to travel, write, report like Amanpour, or Blitzer, Koppel. Reporting will strengthen my writing, like it did Hemingway, Kerouac to extents lesser. Clock, 11:15. Could write straight till 11:55 if I wanted, open the doors and away with the day. But I think I want to walk a bit around the square, maybe go to Oakville and get.. well… nothing. Brought a lunch today and I need stick to budget for the writings and what I’m going to print, maybe, shortly.
Day off tomorrow.. I’ll be ready for the semester, completely by day’s end, I’m sure. Just so very much need this semester to be the one, that one term in an educator’s life that does IT for them.. lecturing, traveling, truly educating all about the country and world. And the charge and euphoric tandem I experience with educating is like NOTHING in wine’s world. Wine could never supply that high. NEVER. Even if I were a winemaker, and received a 100 point score, I wouldn’t feel what I do after a session like so many last term when I’d leave the room with students complimenting me and my energy, passion, one student even saying “Thank you for the inspiring words today.” (And if I did, it would be direly short-lived.) And that happened a few times last term, over the summer and in Spring ’15. Nothing related to wine or winemaking or wine “education” could courier that thrill to this writer.. my mood this morning, ludic, most notably in this polished consciousness. And seeing my writing as a type of iamatology. But still I have yet to hold and administer panacea…
The ideas multiply and vortex in my head like nothing I’ve experienced in the last couple weeks.. what if I sold this entry, not posted it to blog? What if I sold every bloody piece I wrote.. why can’t I?
Why don’t you?
Stop dreaming and saying what you will do and simply execute, write and release like you said to yourself so long ago.. in the San Ramon days at night having a glass of wine on the deck and looking at the pool, that fountain, wondering where I’d be in ten years— “The fucking ten years question,” I remember thinking. That was in, latest, ’03. And here I am, THIRTEEN years later, hating that I still struggle with the same, or some of the same, San Ramon-ish nonsense.
Write the day, each free second.. just what ‘Project A’ purposefully decrees.