…the tasting room, my vineyard walks.  Still hungry.  Need a piece of something back there, if there’s anything left.  And a glass of Pinot.  Any here in office?  I’m sure there is, somewhere.

Back from walk to get two more pieces.  Obviously hungry from run.  Set stopwatch, or not set it but started it.  Not getting up till, well, I absolutely have to.  Stay in the chair and write, like I tell students.  Got coffee to help.  Chewing gum now to substitute for brushing, not sure it is but it’s better than nothing at all.  In office, forcing self to work.  From this page then to something Sonic-associated.  Looking for IT and IW vendors, construction companies, building MY agency. Gum out, coffee in.  Thinking wine.  All wine.  At Lancaster this Sunday, what I’ll have tonight which is all I have in the house, just the remainder of that Merlot.  Wine… my story in it.  Want a vineyard, want to make wine from it, and not go to Davis or some program at the JC or wherever.  Start my label… write the whole thing.  My desk become a tasting room counter, right now, I see it, you should see it, it’s real.  Wine doesn’t want me to write anything else but HER.  In these last pulses in the office, I see and taste Cabernet.  I only want to be around wine.  No interest in anything, but those walks, the books I’ll write…

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