Just had my first sip of caffeine. 

Never got a chance to upload yesterday’s free write, so I’m pasting it below.  In the Vine Street Starbucks.  Wine forever… have to get creative, as the industry only agrees to pay so much.  Tasting I did at Banshee yesterday, need to review my notes.  Enjoyed everything I tasted.  Young girl, only 22, pouring for me, telling me this was her first industry job— her whole career and life ahead of her.  Do I envy that?  Maybe a little, but I’m here and obsessing over my place on the existential track will only prove a bulbous waste of time.

Papers to grade tonight, goddamnit.  Going to speed through them.  Just started sipping my mocha here, so I’m a little edgy and the sip I took was forceful and whole, so my heart tries to keep up.

9:27am…. Not much longer before I have to rise and drive to Dutcher.  Not myself this morning, like a wine stuck in fermentation, or not showing the phenolics a winemaker wanted.  People around me, I don’t hear them.  Usual music in my ear, making me think of my wine shop/bar someday, hopefully owned with my sister, somewhere in Sonoma.  But not a restaurant.  Not sure what I’m saying this morning.  This is what a passion for wine and wine life does to you.. it invites you to be too creative.  Need to get down to Monterey and taste there… back out to France, to Spain for my first wine mission.  Need history and wine, notes randomized and put into book-form…

Time got away from me again.  9:32am.  What do I do?  Should I call in, tell them I’m going to be a little late? No.. keep with the story.  Take your notes.  Where the vines are in this cold sun.  No buds breaking yet, but they could be close, soon.  Then a countdown catalyzes.  Not just to harvest, but to my first travel.


2/28/17…. Needed a freewrite.  Busy day ahead with client meeting, and I think a possible call to New York.  Need more coffee, for sure.  In the conference room here in English Department, thinking of the thoughts I just offered on Langston Hughes and hip-hop as an argumentative medium, conveying arguments poetical and not just in some template prose form.  I know there’s value in correlating this with what I do with marketing.  Wrote a business plan for Self, a new one, in the Comp Book.  Everything revolves around what I promised myself I would forever be, Poetry.  A poet.  A poem says.. one speaking in impassioned verses and imageries, odd structures and musical roles.

Starting a new poem just now and brought back to my freewrite, but I have to get on the road, up to Healdsburg to work with client.  Do I have time to stop for a mocha?  Need caffeine…. Anyway, back to biz plan for Self… poetry, wine, teaching, blogging, marketing and selling…. The teaching, or “speaking” as they say, consideration to my bigger puzzle is crucial.  Need to keep the plan simple, I know.  Work with what I have…. And what I have are thoughts, visions, knowing where I want to be, where I need to be to provide for my wife, babies, family.  So I keep moving and refuse distractions.  Distraction is death.  What’s Life?  Work, simply.  Working.  Being the tireless writing father I’ve always been.

Noticing, and I’ve noticed this before but now I’m really noticing, that every time I write ‘freewrite’ my computer underlines it in red.  As if to protest my word and language usage.  All the more reason for me to do it.  I’m not interested in playing by rules, or appeasing convention acceptance.  I’m doing everything differently, as I’ve always written—  Newness. is my addiction.

Quiet here in the conference room, on this floor of Emeritus Hall.  Don’t hear any instructors offering infallible counsel, or any full-timers going back and forth with their cutesy laugh-puke badinage.  Just me.  Here.  Writing.  Free.  What I’m learning from this, or what I’m thinking—  Don’t take on too much.  I know you think you’re invincible, and you don’t get tired.  And maybe that is your true state right now, but you will get tired eventually.  Everything must be tempered, moderated, controlled.  Be experimental, be fun, be wild in your creative, but have consistency in rhythm.

Time to go.  Time for coffee.  Time for more of the day, the part I’m looking forward to most.  Creative, story… moving, moving…. At winery tomorrow and till Saturday, where I get most, or many, of my ideas…. Ugh, keep getting distracted by emails I want to send and things I want to investigate in wine’s world, with my wine writing and wine itself— the industry, the business, the interworking of wine and where we are, the “wine country” that so many flock to…. That’s so, so poetic.  So poetic, that it would never let a writing daddy like me, EVER, leave.  It would never let me be free.  And I couldn’t be more humbled.