After work, interesting day.

Sauvignon Blanc at Beer Baron downtown. Letting go of thought and all causing any angst or pressure, stress or anything similar. Just told waitress which SB I’ll have, think the same as last. I don’t know, honestly. I just saw Sauvignon Blanc on the menu when she pulled it from the holder on bar’s side, saw Eric Kent (spelling, don’t know), under SB and just said the name.

Just tasted, not the same as last time. Sitting on bar stool as I was the other day in SF, at a table extending from wall. By Xmas tree, can smell it and the scents of pine and vanilla and cane sugar from the needles relax me. See 4th Street. Waiting for second sip. Took couple shots on phone of where I am as I usually do. The glass, the base of the glass on counter, and attempted to capture 4th but with obstructing reflection of inside. People around me with those afterwork voices. Relaxed, waiting for apps, disclosing the day’s tax. What happened in the office and in the tasting room. Think just a couple wine industry people here. Table behind me possibly.

Sip, more vanilla. Different for an SB. Wine industry group behind me increasing with their narrative aggression and intention. I listen, but don’t. I look at the wine, see my tasting room. What I pour, back in the tasting room, but my own. Santa Rosa, right now my Paris. My stage… scene, lecture. Student of people, what’s around me, this wine, the bartender shaking that thing to make some drink. Martini or…. something. Can’t think of the names of any drinks. Not now or ever. I don’t drink what they drink, the customers of that violently shakes result.

Writing after lecturing. Semester done. And I remember around Week 5 I would wish for it to be done, quite literally, admittedly, wishing my life away. Why. But I did. Think I need something to eat. But that’s money away from my business. What’s my business…. blogging. But my blogging bills are paid, aren’t they? ‘Nother sip and this is not the wine I had last visit. It’s a new character, some new story and character. Movement new to me and wine is again throwing me whichever way it wants.

Out of the office, out of the classroom, Mike thinks about his Road. Where he is with it, where it is with him. What’s the thesis, if he’s to be professor-like about it. He shifts right, to see the bar. The tree more expressive. He tastes the tree in the wine, which strangely he likes. Guy at bar looks at phone, eats something Mike can’t see, does slow touch and go’s on his beer. Mike starts to get uncomfortable on the bar stool. The crowd around him start to snake under his skin. He wants to leave, but won’t let departure just be a ready and easily actuated option.

He wonders where the waitress is, but then forget about her. A bar, a business…. how long would this one survive in downtown. Wine done. Now what. Waitress approaching… Mike asks for menu, he gets, decides, waits some more.

My day, much more a star, comforting sun than earlier. I blame me, my perspective. Learning, a learning and growth exercise, banal it sounds.