Up early, first thing for the writing daddy was to be Daddy, and I couldn’t have been happier than to begin the day in such a way. Now, writing upstairs at Palooza, in my old loft spot, where I’d write during lunch break from a nearby winery. I’m here, and I’m going to keep going. The journey of this wild wine writer’s now gaining altitude, with all the sounds of this restaurant or gastropub, wine and beer spot. So much life here… so much story with Jeff reinventing himself, as he says on the website.
Tomorrow morning, waking early— I swear to bloody ‘something’. Inventory at the end of the day.. everything.. exactly what I did so I can go to sleep knowing that not one second was wasted. Creative forever.. my own crEATive shop. I hear people downstairs and it only fuels this writing animal that I’ve always been. But today I’m different. More focused, or something. Energized and eager, confident and quick, versatile in what I say and how I think.
1:33pm now, and music overhead here in my friend’s restaurant (and it is a restaurant, not some one-dimensional pub or hotdog stand, or even a bar.. this is a formidable restaurant, one of if not THE best in the valley) has me sped in my sitting. Sent draft to him and his wife, and now I take more notes, business and creative, but my business is creative so I guess one in the same— I can’t believe I’m here again, working with them, and not on some rushed “lunch break” declared by a nearby twit winery that doesn’t know business from a storm sewer (and funny, as the winery I’m citing was all sewer, and all storm.. bursting disfunction). I’m here on my own count and accord, account. No rush.. I’m part of this story. My story blending with theirs, Palooza’s. Huh… bottledaux-apalooza.