Today, set to be the best in a while, getting writing for winery done and a blog post for the project the owner and I have. Then, tonight’s lecture, back to Plath and all her inner workings and dreams and symmetries… “Kiss me and you will see how important I am…”
Looking out at the vineyards and just having a chat with Nick the winemaker a second ago on the edge of the Cabernet block closest to the office where now I type, I need to be out there more. At lunch, a walk to my spot, under the tree, shaded by the riverbed.. a winemaker I know says, and has always said, “…if you want to make wine you need to be out in the vineyard, always.” The same for this writer, as well.
Today. Forcing it to be the most enriching of my life. Watch… This is more than mere optimism, or repeated affirmations. This is a fruitful fruition that only I can and will materialize and make something I can in my hand hold.
12:56PM— waiting for Mezzaluna from Oakville to get here. Yes I brought lunch but as always when someone offers to get us something or tells they’re going somewhere for lunch, you hop on that wagon. So here I am at my desk, working, thinking about lunch, looking out at the vineyard after a short sprint to the Grenache block, looking around for changing colors and finding nothing but I walked on and enjoyed what the vineyard told me, those little gusts and the sun, quite intent with its temperature today.
Ready for lecture tonight. Poetry. Seeing everything as poetry and tonight you can bet I will type those pieces on my desk. Also eager for tonight after meeting with Debra, Dutcher’s owner, and she speaking on having a job vs. a career, or lifestyle— your work being who you are, not just what you do. Today HAS proven to be MINE, and meant for my story and getting me closer to travel, to the Road, to Spain.
4:41, minutes away from departure. Thinking about tomorrow’s run, how far I want to go. Do I want double digits, or something within an hour, see what I can put up in 60 minutes? I’ll see what the story tells me to do. Today was more than productive, it was expository and encouraging, electric and musical. And I’ll keep this going till and past class.
10:25PM— Going to type poem I started to write in class, while students were looking for poetic waves in Plath’s prose. I start the piece with “Lines colored bottles all sipped/before deadline. Line dead…” Poetry again taking me in the direction I need go. Feel like it’s been in the back ground for so long to fiction experiments and narrative hiatuses, or whatever, but here I am, back with my first love— verse, rimes, lone lines, lines play and breaks…
Had a thought but lost it.. thinking about Nick and I in the vineyard.. then poetry… reciting verses, readings….. fuck, it’s lost. Was it something about Plath?— Shouldn’t curse. Not creative, not positive. Sorry…