Ready for class. Then, writing… more writing. Have to edit education piece, write a story, poem, other directions. The writer today of spirits elevated, especially after tasting a rhythmic and theatrical Cabernet with Nick the winemaker. Just discussing the live entity in the glass, and what it does, what it says, what he hopes it says to the sipper— again reminding me wine is entirely alive, and that’s it’s meant to be fun, sans complication. It’s life, and all life. Life for me as a writer and for more thought, dreams, getting me closer to the Road. Wine wants me on the Road. It wants me to sip on the Road, from a hotel room looking down at some street I’ve never seen (like I did in Paris). Putting a book together, tonight. No more stalling. Enough of this. Starting with a recent entry, won’t say which one. But the story of the adjunct, writing father, runner, thinking, lover and dreamer and daydreamer… wanderer… finally told me what to do.
Move quicker, always try to move quicker. My new guiding mode and philosophy of things, all things. There… set alarm for 4. Ready for tomorrow. So very ready. 18th is only 11 days away, and I haven’t made any what I would or could call “significant” strides toward the Road. Going to get to work early tomorrow, get everything done and work on new ideas for the winery, tell more of the story, tell more of the vineyard’s story and what the bike tells me to write. The penny-farthing, one wheel bigger than the other, odd-looking but so beautiful and ordering the onlooker to analyze and consider what it means. It’s a beauty that I’m not used to, that I can’t turn away from, that I want more of, that I have to have. And I do, daily, being here. Blessed…..
Sales goal for next week: $50 extra cash, from writing. Simple, curt, clear. No ambiguity. I’ll budget self an even $100 for whatever I publish, and that’s it. Sure I wish my budget could be bigger, but it’s not. You work with what you have, not with what you wish you had (I’m finally learning at my old ass age…).