08:30.  At winery. 

More thoughts on a new step, a new direction and new knowledge, experiences, writings and whatever else the day has.  Can’t stop thinking about the call, yesterday.  Newness, what I’m looking for.  Heaping storms of Newness for the writer.  Should have taken the day off, honestly.  For sakes of, well, so much.  Short stories about the tasting room and wine and work, teaching… everything in my head circling.  At a pace I can more or less manage, but still the thoughts me provoke.  To think more.  This morning’s early wake affects me, presently.  Hard to think and write, but I do so anyway, poems speaking to me and me writing them down after this entry.  Mumbles, in head, new choruses and verses to recite.  Deciding that certain paths need end, and end when I order them ended.

Spoke yesterday with someone new to company, and we talked about traveling with our own wines, pouring them in other countries and states, and here in Sonoma County.  Dreams… the visions, thoughts becoming tangible and what surrounds you.  No more dreaming, no more simple envisioning and hoping, the wish-listing writing I feel like I’ve been doing for years.  Writing, like this, the healer, the purveyor, the deliver system in this solitude which can at any moment broken be.  Sure someone will walk in, sit at their little cubicle place, spot, and start their work day.  Writing… the cure.  This new possibility stemming from yesterday’s call, lights and lights, new illumination and education.  For me, the babies…

Need a day.  May leave early, today.  In fact I’m nearly assured I will.  When home, rest.  A bit of writing, obviously.  Poems, record them… songs, whatever else there is.  Alway something to compose, jot in the July Journal or somewhere else.  Festinating in this chair, on this page, language’s acolyte.  There’s always something new to write, always a new song, always more tracks to deliver.  Waiting for email… for something, but that’s the block that I don’t need.  Just keep writing, I tell myself.  Learning to nurture the nature of the forward, my books, my pages and stories, the creative of my moment.

This office is far more agreeable than the Napa office I worked in 2011 and just a touch into ’12.  Not sure why… maybe knowing there’s vineyard just on the other side of that wall, I don’t know.  But I’m not as unnerved.  In fact I’m not at all, with the crush pad crew just below me, racking whatever barrels they have to, or in the lab testing alcohols or acids, what be.  I’m at more than a winery, but temple, a place of instruction and learning, knowledge, what I think I write about anymore.  Knowledge.. learning from each moment, each sight and observation, each serving as a standalone piece.  I don’t need to dream or contribute items to any wish bay or list.  Everything’s here, where I am, where I’m being sent, to this new story, a new stage.  

Waiting.