Awake, on couch for cartoons with little Kerouac.  Came home late last night from dinner meeting so I only went in and said goodnight to the little beat.  Two waffles for my little poet, and I collect with notes, thoughts, more in this new dimension and direction of my wine story.  This new assignment, a platform for me.  To not only devote to wine and business study, but other storytelling paths.  I am awake, but could use coffee.  Can’t remember if I have any left in the black tumbler.  Way I feel now is eager as I usually am in mornings but unsure of the next step, next, and next.  Have to do a vineyard walk today.  No planned sequence in my stroll, just to be out.  Vines… little clusters, flowering, the view from that long driveway.  Now what…  think… wine deconstruction, description, not so much adjectives but personifying each bottle–  ’14 Zin, talking its obscure tongue which somehow proves universal and undefined, with richly wild berry animation and palate-geography.  A Saturday morning, stage renewing and setting new frames and pictures in the writer’s head.  Like a tireless meditation that devours itself and me in it, manifold and cosmically, sending my inwardness to a promising and set solar system.