Just finished a 3000+ word essay.

And I could still write.  Up since 5-something, and into the coffee.  This is what the new year needs to be, every morning.  Part of the love and routine, no… but the routine itself.  And more than the routine.  LIFE.  MY life’s work.  Here at the keys, in this quiet room, up before anyone even thinks or dreams of or perceives being awake, walking around and speaking.

Today in the tasting room, expect me to be quite vocal, written, recording everything.  Need tasting room stories for a character I started writing.

Bored of the wines, but I’ll try them anyway, see if they have anything new to sing…