random thoughts and measurements of my Now and where I’m next supposed to go. Refusing to taste a single wine as to stay more than focused in and on where I am and what I’m doing. One of the maintenance guys sharing with me the idea that work is corroding his mood and general character, attitude, turning him into a monster as he put it. I then thought how I will never let that happen to me, especially where I’m going with new writing opportunities. I remember something an old friend in college told me about you only are treated how you let yourself be treated. Ate half the sandwich from yesterday, the one the Florida man didn’t eat while here with his wife. Little more energized and invigorated. What next… tour and tasting with two people. Made some cheese plates, need to pour wines, and then more note taking. Closing in on my There, finally. Talk myself out of any mood with humor. The wine industry is abundantly heaping in humor. Won’t get too into that, but I’m into that. You know what, I will taste a little when back in the tasting room. Or, in cave whilst pouring the wines to be paired with the bites I put out on plate. May stay here a little after everyone’s left, do some writing and planning, jotting of notes and sights of the next scene for me. Institution attempting to lower me, recently, and I refusing. I’m going further into these pages. And there I am, just promising. Now, to a story…. New piece on a winemaking character like my sister, or the one I wrote a couple weeks ago. Writing has become more labor’d for me, more straining. And I can’t figure out if it’s the wine industry, the tasting room, or some other parcel of my day. But I refuse to not write. I have to and I will. Even now, I feel self slowing, asking “What do I write next?…What do I write about?” Hate when I hear myself say that, or worse when I write it. Back in Paris, I’ll write everything… and here, in the winery’s walls, that tasting room, the same thing. From what this new manager says to what my hilarious TR comrade says, to what I think about walking into the cave. A winery day, another. Then another after. But soon, a stop to them. There need be contrast, an away and an immediate. The only way I can see the world, my story and consistencies— by way of polarity. Tempter to email that lady, to follow up on potential assignment, again, but I focus on the Now, the moment, right here in this office and the wines I’ll taste through. Lunch over in 8 minutes, so what I think and so what of the day and anything anyone could say. I just do what my story’s character need. People to be here about 30, ideas more, a positive monster me now. Not promising anything, but conveying the Now, translating and re-translating.