In office at winery. All positive. I’m smiling at any stress, and still very much buzzing off the run yesterday, the 8 miles I did in Oakmont of all places. Tonight’s lecture, still have to plan. I will. I’m challenging myself to something, but I’m not going to write it here. I’ll jinx myself, I know I will if I do.
11:30. Nearly time for lunch. Although lunch will be anything but a “lunching” of anything, as I’ll be writing for tonight’s class, consolidating and dedicating all efforts for the night’s meeting. I’ll again focus around and within directly Identity, for Plath, and talk about the book and our involvement as modern readers. Tonight’s lecture is meant to change my life. July 18, the date by which I have to make a significant and viciously visible step toward travel, toward Spain, rushes toward me like me toward mile 8 yesterday. My ignorance of negativity and musical submersion into all notes and keys positive emboldens and coaches me like nothing else. Just walked outside, the air encouraged the writer, assured and re-assured him he’s doing all things right. You will soon be righted from the writing, a new story written from these new meditative and yay-saying writs.
Electrocutions. Stimulating, painful, inspiring… A confusion of ideas, but one inspiring for the creative. New writing routine for me, which will electrify my reality… quote, poem a day, entry/post to blog, short fiction… More and more writing. No wine or beer for the foreseeable future. When I have something to celebrate, then I’ll have a glass or two. But not before. Before the 18th… Something huge, something huge has to happen. Keep collecting moments, stories… ideas… but consolidate. Singularization. I know that’s part of the solution.
Yay-saying pluses… idea, for self-publication. Sell them as pocket-book-like things, or the opposite of ‘penny dreadfuls’..
One: Smile when you know you’re negative, feeling negative, or just being negative. And watch it just fly away.
Two: If you feel like I do right now, tired in the middle of the day, do something random and exciting, something different… Keep yourself excited.
4:41PM. Well duh it’s ‘PM’. Need caffeine, in Diet Coke form, before class. Going to that gas station on Dry Creek… Just wrote a note to self in Comp Book— speaking of, I need a new Comp Book. Of course. Tired. Just edited some more wine copy, then I think of the wines I opened and had last night, from the interesting Rosé Mom and Dad brought over, then to the Zin they brought over. 2013, Turley. Big, very active, and with an imaginative depth for a Zinfandel. I say that as I’m not in any way a Zin pursuer. Dutcher’s Zins are all self-personifying and prominent. But that’s the exception that proves my old rule: stick with Cabernet, Pinot, Syrah, Merlot… No jam hammers in my studio.
Home…
Thinking no run possibly, tomorrow. Just writing and research, business activity all day. Where am I know, floor of studio’s 1st level, low light, and quiet. Not even Mr. Hutcherson can be heard now. No coffee in house. Fuck. I’ll go grab one when mother-in-law gets here. So, playing with time… if I had from 7:30 to 9:30, what could I get done. OR, what if I only allowed myself 45 minutes to run rather than the hour-forty-something I let self last week for my 13.1? You know what, don’t worry about that now. Not worried, just thinking— Well, don’t “think” about it either.
Tasted through 4 tanks of Chardonnay today, with Nick, one of the Dutcher winemakers. Each one spoke to me, sang, recited, made me see there’s more story to capture at Dutcher than the hilarious histories Debra shares. I mean, what she’s told me is more material than I ever could have hoped for— I mean, just knowing her and being told a story, story after story, as a writer is just gold. Just fucking gold. But there’s more. The vines, the resulting wines, people coming in and asking about the bike, and the building, the valley. There’s always more, there’s always more…
Okay, I told myself and you that I wouldn’t have any wine, but I had to sip the Kunde SB Mom and Dad brought over last night. Just to have here on the floor in this quiet. Quiet— “And you write a lifestyle blog?” I asked myself earlier. “What is your ‘lifestyle’?” A father. A writer. A teacher. A blogger. A runner. A wine-chaser. A reader.— Are you looking for one thing? Okay.. then a writer. Who happens to be a running father-teacher-reader-student-meditator… Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I am. No, I do. I’m a teacher, and a writer. And I put teacher first ‘cause anyone can writer. Bloody everyone writes. Some of these bloggers just sit down at their laptop, sipping some fashionable tea, blog about fucking lipstick or what they’re wearing and call it writing. And maybe it is, to some. Well, if it is to some, then it is. I’m writing with negative chords, I’m sorry. I just get frustrated when I see certain bloggers experience Everest success and only “write” about fashionable topics. But I shouldn’t get mad, or jealous, or in some mood. I should congratulate them, study them, learn. Like Dad has ALWAYS said— “Even the village idiot holds a gem.” And it’s not them that’s of idiot incline, it’s me for my naying nonsense. So no more. Sip the wine, enjoy your night, and look forward to enjoying a morning off from running. And lots of coffee and words, reading and meditation. Tomorrow could be that day, that “awesome day” that I’ve hoped for and imagined happening to me since working at ‘the box’.
Then my mind goes quiet, I finish my SB glass, and just look around the room, the house. Our house. Wow, I’m 37, father of two, husband, and have a house. Certain time for intensification of effort.
note: Listen, don’t talk, let the surroundings’ encouragement do its job: encourage you, thoroughly through, then you’ll see Truth.