Photo on 7-24-18 at 9.25 AM…and what I do, in proximal thoughts, even while reading Emerson I feel a certain beat, a percussions and echoing space of ambient sounds chords and chimes.  The music I follow, the rhythm of thinking and seeing, observing and recording.  Nothing like that in the tasting room, or as I said at any job.  No job, no employer, no university, will provide the career I want.  So, what I and all you have to do before death— DO.  What we see, what we feel, create what we wish.

12 minutes till clock-in.  But I’m ignoring that goddamn thing.  I’m busy.  This is my time.  Quite possibly will call in sick tomorrow, return to the beach, write at home or at some café, or at some winery just outside Bodega, further east like in Sebastopol, or Freestone.  I need be free, we all do. Before we’re on our deathbeds, wishing and self-cursing, scolding, tearing up because we didn’t.  Today, I light the wick of my nonconformist trek.  Do the same for you…