6/9/20 – Day 11 – On crunch. Emma getting restless. Wanting to color but can’t find herself a coloring book. Finds some paper, a little notebook. Too afraid to look over at her as the last time I did that she yelled, STOP IT!!!
This morning’s run, hitting pavement just before six. Need to do that every morning, and if I don’t do 8.5 miles as I did today then no less than 5. Would take less than an hour.
More poetry…. And record it. Can’t record anything right now, in this house with Melissa on her Zoom and Emma talking to herself, playing, I think pretending she’s a teacher like her mother.
Feel like going for another run now, just to get out of the house. Will in a minute, not run but get out.. get self a sandwich at Oliver’s, probably the 900th since SIP started.
Pinot I had last night, reminding me of the Pinots Glen makes for Sanglier. Soft but not passive, bright and animated, restrained and contained but narrating usually seductive wildness. More I write about wine, see myself traveling nearly as soon as this covid cloud passes. Was invited to submit an article to a local paper, but not sure I want to do that. Would it pay? No.. but the readership. Should I just do it for that?
Customer calls me, complains about speeds but then I tell him that’s what he signed for, and the matter is extinguished.
11 days into 41, and all I want it music, poetry…. Put it into everything. And I will. I, AM. From being an AE, to blogging… running, what I order for lunch. What DO I want for lunch. Sandwich?….. Sushi? Sandwich.
Another thought from this morning’s run was about thinking. And how thinking is the one thing that will ensure that something does NOT happen. Doesn’t even have to be excess thinking, thought…. What if I’m thinking about which road to run, and to the extent where I pass even ONE road down which I’ve never gathered mileage. Or, writing… what should I write about…. OR, wines and winemaking. My sister told me in 2011, with the first wine we ever made together, “If you think too much about it or doubt yourself you’re never going to make wine.” And I know that’s where I’m headed with everything…. MY wine quarter. Vinovinevin has been shaping itself for years, and now from this quarantine it presents itself and its life, its voice, and wherewithal… its POETRY.