Trying to organize thoughts early and think about yesterday’s tastings and the glass of SB at Kunde, learning an old friend is getting divorced. Must be something int he Sonoma County water, or covid, or all the quarantining, something.
Tasting at Imagery yesterday and walking through the art gallery thinking about the magic of this new meta, every conversation and opportunity business and other. Quota dead for the month, honing on the yearly number now. Ditter and I possibly going to Vegas in November or December…. New experiences, new mind, through shape and architecture.
My friend on Friday at lunch and all the mention of writing a paper, the argument… thesis. What is the thesis of NOW, right here in this tasing room, dinner tonight in Petaluma…. No thesis, I reason. Throw everything in, like a bowl of Ramen… Ramen Reasoning. Maybe that’s the title of the book, and not ‘o/ver’….
Should put out tables soon. Comp Book and laptop here… want at least 1000 words by the time I leave for Petaluma.
This latte tastes weird. Need to stick to regular coffee but a latte sounded like morning Sunday love… so here I am now complaining about it.
Wonder if Justin is next-door, and if he’s been dating like he told me the past few months.
Relationships… definitely a new topic for me. How humans communicate with each other… the message or thesis, or vibe they offer to the world, to each other, to themselves…the relationship they have with Self. What I now think about typing here in a quiet tasting room, no music which is incredibly rare for me. MY relationship with writing, with wine…. With Sonoma County, my sister, parents, my babies, others….. Sight and other senses leapfrogging over each other. Write everything… stop teaching after this semester… my relationship with teaching, former student whom I’ve known for years and now are close friends.
My relationship with music, now proceeding in more pronounced and proclamatory pulses…. Mr Coltrane on now. List starting as it always does with “In A Sentimental Mood”. Fitting.
Clocked in, 10:43, will put out tables in a second. One more Coltrane track, “My Little Brown Book”, with Duke Ellington. Need more music, more. Chris driving yesterday as he always does, requests to do, playing a mix of chill house that he made a couple weeks ago. Had that poolside feel, relaxing and atmospheric… no hard or tense buildups, just eased mellow forwards.
Rubbing right eye, still waking a bit. Caffeine working but not. Don’t want to talk to anyone today. Or maybe I do, get those conversations compiled and collected for book and other essays. Shit, September nearly closed. How…. Time and I sparring, but only for as long as I have time. So I vow pugilism in all prose and poem.
NOTES:
-Relationships, Composition/s of….
-Jazz, people in Sonoma, the Tasting Room, wine
-Fuck punctuation