from wine book…

…wine’s taught me— time sin’t forever, time just keeps with its sprint and doesn’t give a shit about you.  So there you have it.  You have to write faster.  Drink more wine.  Try more wine.  TRAVEL.  I’m trying, I’m trying… most of my vino jots are wishlistings about where I want to go and what I want to do.  But that’s another wine’s taught me—  THAT’S OKAY.  Wine is about dreams and envisioning yourself somewhere else… and if not somewhere else then simply somewhere.  Have to write my newsletter, and I will, but for now I want to enjoy the quiet of this room and the visit-to-Plough aftershock.  Feel like I shouldn’t be here.. like I should let the students go early and me get back home or have a glass of wine somewhere and scribble feverishly.  What are your thoughts?  Can’t believe hoe quiet it is in this building, in this conference room.  Feel the effect of that run, and it was only 4 miles.  So what…. wine calls.  Your articles, if they’re to be wild and wilder than just “wild” have to embody wildness—  Madness, to use a Kerouac spoke.  So quiet in this conference room that I could have probably brought a bottle of something with me, a screw-cap SB or Chard and just taken sips at my leisure.  Actually, I probably could have brought that bottle and walked around this floor, done laps with the bottle in my hand.  Now I’m getting somewhere in idea catalytics.  Can you imagine?  A professor working away at his book in the conference room, not grading papers or lesson planning or even lecture writing, but finishing his own book while sipping wine from a. bottle.  I’m sorry, I see a story there.  That’s wildness.  That’s wine writing, I mean REAL wine journalism, diarism.

Miss my vineyards, even though I ran through one early today on my route.  But I was so pummeled by the heat that I could barely appreciate those clusters…

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