from a wined thousand

img_0730…what I saw earlier at the winery— what I heard and what I felt while the barrels were being cleaned following racking.  Wines in every step, in each showing pulse.  Not sure I have enough in my character’s engine to make it to 1000 words, but who cares.  I have wine and wined thoughts and my wined totality, defying time but so sensitive to it.  What if I could do it, I think… wake at 03:45 and start writing.  Telling my wined story in some 1000-word act that’s not at all an act, multiplied by 3, before anyone in this studio’s awake.  Hear the heater come on and I think of the Cab on the counter and what she must be doing, thinking… thinking of my shop, what I’d be doing if I were still there.  More than likely organization, inventory… today found a 6-pack of some odd bottle in the tax-paid cage, throwing me off and making me think about origin and what to do next, and if I should buy a bottle or two.  But, it’s $160 a bottle, which means $80 to me, but still…

Can’t taste the wine anymore on tongue.  Though, it has been a bit since last sip. Have tomorrow off from winery, and I have no idea what to do.  Prepare more for semester, I guess.  Write writing prompts… urge students to explore elevated interest and their own stories.  Have to think from wine, and then to outside of wine.  Which can be arduous at times but it’s needed.  Buy a couple more books, new journal as I wanted, and maybe taste somewhere… should I?  May have to go by winery for a bit, just to make sure… make sure, what?  I don’t know.  This Cab could be catching me.  It’s random.  I don’t know her.  Which is exciting, needed…

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