freewrite— Took a cup of coffee from winemaker break room. Only had one cup at home and the line at Starbucks, Windsor, was so grisly in length I took one look and was out, gone. Now in cubicle villa with this coffee that’s a bit stale, and non-luminous. But whatever, like a past “manager” once said, IT’S FREE.
First day back on campus yesterday, surprised how well it went. And I’m surprised how nervous I was before getting in classroom. Why, I have no idea, but I was in the first classroom, Maggini Hall, wondering what I’d say and where we should start and how can I make it motivating and creative and entertaining for them— I just did what I felt was best which I can’t right now remember but I remember the sessions, both, being lively, smooth.
Wednesday. Middle of week. What I call Wild Wednesday— so I need be creatively unhinged. At a winery, early in morning, before clocking in, no wine yet, not sure what’s on calendar… have to do more prep for big event on Saturday…. Just focus on the wine, I tell myself. Which wine in particular? I don’t know… all of them. Thinking of going for a vineyard walk at lunch, but I always do that and I should really be writing… I can write later, oui? No. You need to run later— Just talking to myself and getting annoyed with my words.. need synonyms, or French, something to spice this up and re-mold the flavor construct of this prose to something I’d want to sip, were it a wine.
When stuck, focus on moment. Me now here at a winery drinking coffee unsure what the day will bring and if I had my way, my truest of longings materialize right now in front of me, I’d be in the vineyard, taking pictures and taking notes, then returning to my office to type it up. Wine wish— to write about wine, journal wine, detail every detail… like this rectangular room with cubes in it, all of which now are unoccupied. Can hear harvest machine sounds… someone walking up stairs. Someone who works in the company, not sure what he does.. I think something with e-commerce. Nice guy, we exchange hi’s, and back to my typing, this entry, writing freely at a winery… wineries can only encourage freewrites, don’t you think? The air, the creative, the grapes, the contents in barrels and tanks and all the sounds and visuals.. so much to document. There is structure but then there’s not… a vociferous postmodern contour encouraging my addiction to the imagery. I forget how amazing the wines are here as I’m too rattled by the imagery, all there is for me as the writer blogger journalist, what be.
This coffee…. Did I pilfer at the wrong time? Was this to be one of their cups, pours? Will this affect the translation of the ’17 vintage? Not saying I’m that powerful but at a winery every motion influences the next, and all sounds and visuals depend on each other, or result from each other, or are thematically harnesses to what to the side of its genesis.
I only want to record, not even so much help, or hinder. Just observe. Do MY truest of jobs, writing, building my story and sharing it with wine lovers, travelers, crazy readers, happy people, academics, whomever. I’m here, and here at a winery is my story, my job, ME.