Back from run, and coffee run, and I listen to John Coltrane.  What do I do till the winery gathering later, in Alexander Valley.  Hawkes Winery, throwing a BBQ party of some kind, I think for industry people as well as wine club members, friends, not sure.  But I do plan on going.  Till then, what does a wine writer do?  Go tasting?  Go shopping for a bottle for tonight?  Just hopped over noon border, have to have some plan.  What— coffee tasting amazing, at right temperature, and Mr. Coltrane tells me through certain notes and whatever colleague he has accompanying him that I should stay put.  Enjoy my writing.. be more measured.  Don’t overthink, of course, but collect a bit.  Plan… so what’s the plan?  Well, shower for sure, have to eat at some point.  But that’s much of the point with wine, I think, to just go with the flow— no, hate that saying… to let the story direct you, listen to scenic ingredients and and the surrounding chimes and tones, and react to that.  Yes, we make mistakes, but we can’t be obsessed with having too much control, either.

Nearly got distracted by the idea of getting some books from the garage.. Kerouac, Faulkner, Hemingway, and whomever else I could find out there.  But I need remain in the chair as I tell students.  Thinking of Chardonnay, right now.  A nice glass, but the weather is overcast and indecisive as to what season it wants to be.  Find myself in a palm of overthought.  But you will see no inanition from me, ever, and certainly not today when I have the whole day and house and clock to myself.  Back at winery tomorrow, and I can barely contain myself.  Speaking from the wines on the flight in my language and see how they’ve changed just in the 48 or so hours since I last kissed them.